The Burden of the Lady
by A Lady in the Golden Wood
Summary: Kristin Kingston is not who she thought she was. Her past is her present and her present is now her past. The only thing she knows for sure is her mission.
1. Another Mission

"_Where am I going today?" Kristin Kingston asked as her cousin Mark pinned her to the twin bed under the small window that looked out over the car-filled street a few stories below. _

_"Oh, no where big," he lied, pulling a sheath of wires out of the bag he had placed on her chest. "You probably don't want to be around for the rest of the day anyways." Kristin snorted derisively. _

_"Who would? You know, she calls me 'darling', like I was two or something," Kris complained, allowing Mark to stick one of the suction-cupped wires on her left forehead. "Sometimes, I wonder what Dad sees in a person like her."_

_"Not to worry, little cousin," Mark said, sticking another wire on the other side of her forehead. "You won't be here to endure any of it." He pulled a hand held monitor out of the bag and examined the screen. _

_"Hey, just where are you sending me?" Kris asked again pushing the bag off her chest. "Not back to Elizabeth-"_

_"No," Mark said quickly, "nothing like that. We're trying something new today." He set the monitor down on the bedside table and slid off of her, standing up by the bed. "You'll be gone for about, oh, I'm not sure, ten hours here?" Kristin's eyes widened and she moved to sit up, but Mark pushed her back down first, anticipating what her actions would be. _

_"Ten hours? That's like, a month!" Kris sat up, ignoring Mark's hand on her shoulders. "I don't want to be anywhere for that long." _

_"You haven't got much of a choice," Mark said. "Come on, it's either that or put up with Judith all day." Kris winced, but held on. _

_"No Mark. Ten hours is too long. Too much can happen. We've been over this. I could be dead and buried in ten hours. Or have kids." Kristen swung her feet over the side of the bed. _

_"You won't be dead," Mark sighed. "and not quite on having kids, unless you adopt. I installed protections. What kind of a person do you think I am?" _

_"A person who would try to send his only cousin to Mars-"_

_"Hey, that was the first and only time," Mark objected. "Okay, ready? You leave for Greece in five…four-"_

_"Greece? Mark, what are you doing?" Kristin reached up to pull the wires off, but Mark hit the button before she could. The first wave of dizziness flew through her head as Kris held on to reality for a moment. "Not ten hours, you dork. Not ten…" Mark reached down and gently rubbed her cheek. _

_"You'll have fun, Kris. Just don't fall in love with somebody while you're there. I think you'll like the story. In fact, I know you will." Kristin kept holding on, resisting the pull that would win, any minute now. She could do nothing but glare at Mark. _

_"Okay, maybe not ten. Just long enough to keep you away from Judith. And," Mark said as Kris closed her eyes, "try to stay away from most of the warriors, and don't become too involved in politics. In fact, maybe even head for..." _

Mark's words were lost on Kristin; she was gone. Her heartbeat slowed down considerably, and her breath came slower. Eyes closed tightly, she looked asleep - at least in her body on base one, also known as home on earth. But her mind was wide awake, traveling to another place that was, while not on earth, in earth, and another body that waited for her there.

Kristin Kingston was a world traveler. She'd been to Mars, several Star Wars planets, hundreds of time different time eras, and a few diverse galaxies. She'd joined characters in movies and books and had lived with them, taking place in their adventures.

The process began at Base One, but most people simply called it The Base. The other bases were far too numerous to count and label; since Base One was the most important, it was the only common known base. Base One was wear Kris headed as soon as Mark plugged her into the system.

The entire thing was mental stimulation. Or, that's what Kris had been told. People who had open minds were able to be influenced so that they felt they were in another world. All of their senses would confirm it. Not everyone was open. Only about .9 of the population was able to word travel. The people who could not travel just had too much of a closed off mind. That's what Kris had been told.

She didn't entirely believe it. How can mental stimulation leave you with scars? How can it take your life? And how was her mind open? Kris _hated _world traveling.

It was dangerous. Anything that happened to your body while you were at another base also happened to your body at Base One and Home Base. This meant that injuries had to be treated and left real scars. Though it rarely happened, if someone was fatally injured, they died.

No way that was all mental stimulation.

Time was different when you were World Traveling. An hour at Base One could be as much as three days at whatever base you were at. Because of this, your time at Base One was usually less than an hour. In fact, you were not allowed to be absent from Base One for more than an hour until you'd proven yourself trustworthy of longer expeditions.

Kris mentally cursed her cousin Mark as a light began to shine through the darkness of her mind. Mark was a programmer, the one person who most commonly sent Kris to the Base. Programmers were people who did not have the ability to World Travel. They would type up the important information of the trip, including where and when, how and why, for how long and to what extent The information would then be sent to Base where it would be entered into the computer under the name of the traveler. When the traveler reached base, the information could be plugged into the network. When the traveler was also hooked up to the network, he or she would be sent to where the information detailed.

What could Mark be thinking? Ten hours? That could be as long as a month, longer in some places. Whole worlds could be destroyed in a month.

Mark was a good programmer. He'd had lots of practice with Kris. Over the years, he'd developed information sheets that were impossible to change. Much of the time the programmers at Base could find a loop-hole if you didn't want to go where you're programmer was sending you. Mark had proofed his information sheets too well for that. His work was final. If he said Kris was gone for ten hours, she was gone for ten hours.

The light grew stronger as Kristin drew closer to at Base. She willed herself towards it faster, anxious to know where she was going. Greece, she knew that much, but what day? Or rather, what time period? Future? Present? Past?

In a flash that hurt her unopened eyes, the light took over the darkness. Kris opened her eyes in the transferring center, somewhere near the center of the earth. Hurriedly, she stood up. The Center was unusually full of travelers laying on pads. The pads were the highest technology to be found at Base. When a traveler was hooked up to their pad, they were part of the network. Bodies were kept hydrated and nourished while the traveler was at some other base; the mind activity of the person was monitored and recorded. If circumstances seemed to be too much for a traveler to handle, they were pulled back through the network. If their programming would allow them. When someone like Mark was programmer, there was no permanent way out until your time was entirely up. The experience could be "paused" but only for a period equal to five minutes on Base. And that could only happen three times.

All of this was executed through the pads - made of high-tech, fiber-optic mattresses connected to the traveler by wires and suction cups. The pads were connected to an individual computer that was connected to the network. This was how people were observed and monitored while they were traveling.

Kris looked around. A few programmers had looked up at her movement, but they had returned to their computers. Pads were arranged in groups of two facing each other foot to foot. The pad across from hers in the advanced section was full. It had been full for weeks.

Dwain Roberts had programmed himself into the network and sent himself away. He had been gone for close to four weeks; four week turned into five years at a foreign base. Where was not disclosed to public; Kris had a feeling that not even the administrators knew.

Kris shivered as she walked down the hall, momentarily forgetting her anger. What had happened to Dwain was a mystery, and mysteries almost never fared well in the traveler's word. When certain people could enter any reality or dream, any story, movie, song, even world, the people in control needed to know where you were headed. If they didn't, there was a chance you could never come back.

Kris walked quickly down the hall, ignoring the pads on either side of her. Most of them were occupied, filled with apparently sleeping people of all ages, races, and personalities. Down the hall, turn right-

"Kris!" Kristin almost jumped out of her skin as she heard her name exclaimed. "I heard you'd be coming in today." Kristin took a deep breath to calm her nerves fell into step beside the old man waiting for her at the entrance to the main chamber of Base. "I decided to greet you."

"Hi. How's everything here?" Kris asked him. Johnny Lamb smiled as he hurried to keep step with her.

"Oh, mostly fine," he said vaguely as they turned a corner into the huge room filled with equipment, work benches, costume racks, tables, malfunctioning traveling pads stripped of their padding, and people. "We've had an unusual amount of people trying to get to the same place at the same time - seems that all the young ladies want to meet Will Turner, or some such nonsense." Kris smiled, waving at a few people she recognized - fellow travelers and some center workers.

"Will Turner? Why not Jack Sparrow? Much better than Turner." Johnny nodded absentmindedly, glancing at a table filled with blueprints for an extensive looking section of caves.

"Personally, I have no opinion on the subject, except for the fact that that age is certainly dangerous, and hard to equip people for, especially inexperienced travelers. I've been able to detour a few of them to other places - it's quite ridiculous how naïve they are. I'm not sending them anywhere near pirates." Kris silently laughed as the old man continued. "Those few them that insisted on going, I've sent them to a deserted island with that Turner character - much safer than the real thing." Johnny turned another corner and the main center appeared - a glass building inside the hall that held the main computer.

"Yes," Kris said vaguely. "Well, I've been wondering-" .

"About Dwain," he finished for her with a sideways glance. Of course Johnny would guess that. He was an insightful, if sometimes annoying, old man. "No sign of coming to, no sign of waking," Johnny explained. "His workers are past being frantic and are simply working their tails off to get information. We haven't been able to find out much, but we have discovered a little bit more through combining his programming again and again, and I think we may be getting to a spot where we can change his programming or send another person to follow him."

"Tell me about it later," Kristin commanded, following him into the glass center. Although she was interested, her mind was elsewhere. "Mark wants me somewhere for ten hours. Do you think-"

"No," Johnny said quickly. "There's no fooling with Mark's work - it doesn't pay off." He waved to a passing female carrying a box of papers who smiled back. "You'd end up stuck wherever married to a farmer with pigs, or something worse."

"Shoot," Kris sighed as they walked up the stairs, into the control room. "Mark said something about Greece before he- before I left." Kris didn't want to tell Johnny that Mark sometimes sent her places against her will. They might get him in trouble with the high-ups. Okay, the would definitely get him in trouble with the high-ups; no matter how much Mark bothered her, Kris wasn't ready to turn him in.

"Really?" Johnny asked as they stopped at a table surrounded by workers. "We've made _some_ progress with Dwain - for instance, we know where he is. Do you know what time in Greece?"

"No, I was hoping you could tell me. Hi Maurice."

"Hey Kristin. How are you?" the tall black man in front of her asked. "Heard you're going to Greece." He smiled, waving her information papers about in one hand. "Wonderful weather this time of the year-" Kris tugged the papers from him and shuffled through them, looking for the only page that was full of words, print that she could understand. Experienced techies could read the computer lingo that covered most of the pages, but not Kris. Maurice put his hands up in the air and shrugged, looking at Johnny with a little bit of worry on his face. Johnny looked over her shoulder at the paper.

"Destination: Greece," Kris read out loud to the two men. "Time Era: War between Greece and Troy over land and woman Helen. Based on numerous retellings of the war. .." Kris's voice trailed off as she read down the page. Maurice started laughing as her expression turned sour.

"Is your cousin a mind reader?" he asked, slapping Kristin on the shoulder. Kris shook her head and looked up from the paper. "How does he do it, then?"

"What?" Kris asked, her eyebrows furrowed in a scowl. "What's the fool done now?" she continued, her frown deepening.

"Oh, it's just that-" Maurice began, smiling like an insane man, but Johnny cut him off.

"Kristin, I think we need to have a meeting before you leave," he said, a small smile on his own face. "This is some unbelievable luck - after all, you've done missions before-"

"Oh, not again," Kris groaned as she followed the two men into a glass walled room, a long table in the center. "What's it this time?" She plunked herself down in a chair, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Wait till I get the others," Johnny commanded, leaving the room again. His voice had a hint of excitement in it that he couldn't contain. Kris raised her eyebrows and looked at Maurice, sitting on the table a few feet down from her.

"Intercom broke down yesterday," he explained. "Manual retrieving of personnel is now necessary." Kris snorted and leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment. Every bit of dizziness was gone, but she had been tired to begin with - now she was close to falling asleep. Stupid Mark…why Greece? Just in time for a mission? Was he a mind-reader?

Johnny entered the room again, looking flustered, leading three other people. The first was Carrie, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, perfect figure programmer who had a knack for being the bossiest person around. Following her was Tony, the small technician who happened to be Dwain's brother - a personal interest in the case. The last was Brian Hall, who everyone called "Mr. Hall" because he would respond to no other name. Next to Carrie, he was the second bossiest. Also the best programmer around - except for child-prodigy Mark. The three of them sat down. Carrie nodded at Kris, Tony smiled and waved, and Mr. Hall ignored her completely.

"People, we have had a bit of luck, at last," Johnny said, sitting down at the head of the table. "Kristin here is heading to the exact time which, if we calculate it, is almost where Dwain is. We've just discovered-" He got no further. Before he could speak, Tony jumped up and hurried over to where Kris had sat down.

"Really?" he asked excitedly, ignoring Johnny as he spoke. Tony was short, probably five foot. "Troy? I mean, the war between Troy and Greece, over Helen, with Achilles, and Agamemnon, and-"

"Yes, Tony. Calm yourself," Kris said, not unkindly. She handed him the destination paper. He snatched it from her hand, his eyes skimming the paper. Tony could read like no other.

"Yes," Johnny continued, glaring at Tony, who continued reading, completely unaware, "we've discovered that it's almost the exact period." He said it like it had taken a lot of work on his and others parts, even though it took no more than glancing over a page of writing. "Kris, would you mind…" Kris shook her head even while she sighed.

"No. I can't get out of it, so-" Hall snorted at that - "so I might as well look for him." Kris finished, glaring at Hall. The man was insufferable, completely stuck up, and found it hard to accept that there was a better programmer than him.

"Thank-you," Johnny quietly, looking with gratitude at Kristin. "You're one of our better agents-"

"I'm not an agent." Maurice snorted at that. Kris turned her head to look at him. He was laughing silently. When he saw her looking, he stopped.

"Sorry, mate, but you might as well be an agent. First that business in Ghana, than in World War II, then in Alaska Gold Rush - you're an agent." Kris frowned at him.

"Then why am I not paid?" she asked solidly. He shrugged.

"Good question." Maurice said, turning to Johnny. Hall snorted.

"Oh, come on, the kid doesn't need pay. She's what, sixteen?" Hall asked arrogantly. Kris looked up, offended. "Besides, I could change her programming if we needed to." He leaned back and crossed his arms. "She makes it sound like she's some kind of saint," he muttered.

"I'd like to see you try," Carrie snapped, ignoring his second comment. "It's impossible to change her programmer's work." She tossed her head, sending blonde hair flying into Maurice's face. "He's got no loop-holes at _all_." Hall glared at her angrily, and opened his mouth to speak, but Johnny beat him to it.

"Alright kids, let's be nice. Kris, you don't mind? Oh, and Hall, she _is _seventeen." Kris shook her head, but her mouth was shut tight. She was not in the mood for this today. "Good. Let's get started then. Tony?" Tony looked up from the paper and glanced at Kris in a new light before looking at Johnny.

"Yes Mr. Lamb?"

"I'm going to need you to get us all the files that you have on Dwain. Kris needs to leave in less than an hour - let's make sure she's well informed. Hall, I want you going over her programming - I doubt there's mistakes, but check. Carrie…just help Hall." Johnny turned to Maurice. "You and I will help Kris get…informed." Maurice nodded and stood up, walking over to Kris and tipping the back of her chair down, almost dumping her on the floor. She grabbed the arms to keep from falling out and stood up herself, spinning around to face Maurice, who was already out the door.

"Let's go kid!" he called back. "Time to get you 'informed'." Kris sighed and walked out, back into the noise of the main room. She dodged a few low programmers, and followed Maurice, looking back to make sure Johnny was following. Being along with Maurice can drive a person crazy. Johnny was behind her. He smiled reassuringly, and Kris fought the urge to laugh - with his white hair sticking up in random places and twinkling gray eyes, Johnny looked like he still tried to be a kid, even though she knew it was just Johnny.

Maurice led them into a small conference room where Tony was digging through file cabinets, pulling manila folders out by the tens.

"You'll want to look at these," he began, sliding two across the table to Kris. "And these," three more, "And probably, these few-"

"Enough, Tony," Maurice said, laughing. "She only has half an hour." Tony's face turned red as he pulled the folder back.

"Of course. Alright, well, that's what you should go through - the basics." he stood up and hurried around the table to leave. Kris placed a hand on his shoulder as he walked by.

"I'll find him if I can," she told him, looking Tony in the eye. "If I can do it, I will." Tony smiled and nodded gratefully, then turned and hurried out. Kris sighed and sat down at the table, ignoring the looks sent to her by both Maurice and Johnny. They looked at each other and shrugged before sitting down at the table beside her.

"Okay, where do we begin?" Kris asked, picking up the first folder. Opening it, she read the title of the first page: HAND MOVEMENTS OF THE LAST WEEK "Oh no," she sighed, dropping the paper and moving to the next one.

"Any of this pertinent?" Maurice asked as he picked up another paper, glancing at the title: HEART RATE AND MIND ACTIVITY OF THIRD WEEK.

"No," Johnny sighed, picking up a folder, then dropping it in disgust. Kris dropped her folder, and picked another up.

"Here we go," she said, opening the pages.. "Oh, never mind," she sighed, dropping the paper. BREATHS A MINUTE - FIRST WEEK. Maurice caught sight of it and laughed. Johnny sighed again.

"Well, it looks like you'll be learning from us," he said tiredly. "Okay. Dwain Roberts. Left four week ago, unknown destination until yesterday. We were reading through journals that he's kept over the years, and he actually wrote the exact programming information. We were going to send an agent in to recover him, but…you're here." Maurice grinned over at Kris.

"According to my calculations," he said, grin dropping away instantly, "Although he has been away for four weeks here, he feels like he has been away for 2,016 days. About five and a half years. The state of anyone's sanity after such a length of time is doubtful." Maurice was the head of Time Operations at the Center - he knew every time conversion for every place ever traveled to.

Kris whistled softly - something she'd learned from Mark.

"Five and a half YEARS? And I thought a month was bad." Kris said softly. Johnny nodded.

"We haven't heard from him since the second day he was gone. He's not dead, he's just not responding. We can't bring him out without making sure he's okay, and we can't just leave him there forever - he would be immortal in his land, and he's healthy - he won't die here for a long time." Johnny shook his head sadly. "It's a bad thing. We have to get him out."

"Your job," Maurice began, "is to look for him. Don't even go out of your way to find him. Just look around. If you don't see him without looking, he doesn't want to be found yet and there's nothing we can do about it." Kris looked at him questioningly.

"If you don't want to be found, you won't," Johnny said. "If you want to be found, any other traveler will see you. It just…is."

"Okay," Kris said. "That makes it _so _much clearer." Maurice lifted his hands in mock cheering.

"She understands!" He reached over and slapped her on the shoulder. "That's a first. Should I bring the champagne out?"

"No," Johnny said. "She's still a minor." Both men started laughing, as if there had been some inside joke in what he'd said; Kris got the feeling that both were functioning on to little sleep and were slap-happy. She sighed and leaned back in her chair again, picking up another random folder.

"There's not much else we can tell you," Johnny said after he stopped laughing. "There isn't a lot else to know. It won't help for you to know what he wore when he first entered - after five years, it's bound to have changed." A knock came on the door. It opened to Hall and Carrie, both tugging on the same piece of paper. They stopped when the door opened, and Carrie let go to fuss with her hair. Hall entered the room.

"There's nothing wrong with her programming," he said disdainfully. "Un-tastefully done, but what can be expected?" He sniffed. "The programmer's a cretin, but oh well."

"What do you mean?" Johnny said, pulling the paper out of Hall's hands. Kris silently laughed. This man calling Mark a cretin, so accurately, when he hadn't even met him…it _was _laughable.

"Oh dear," Johnny said worriedly after looking at the paper. "Kristin, how old is your programmer?"

"Uh, nineteen, I think. Why? What's wrong with it?" Johnny held the paper for a moment, then slid it toward Kris. Maurice grabbed it before she could catch it.

"I think he has a maturity problem," Johnny told her. The moment Maurice glanced over the paper, a look of unbelief dawned across his face. He tossed the paper at Kris quickly, unbelief quickly turning to laughter as he put his head in his hands. Definitely slap-happy.

Kris snatched the paper, glaring at Maurice. But he was too incapacitated from laughter to even respond. She moved her gaze to the paper as Hall continued talking.

"Very immature. Clearly he can't put his powers to good use." Hall sniffed again, very disdainfully. Kris moved all her attention to the paper, scanning the page. It was technical jargon.

"Can someone explain?" she asked. "I can't understand this-" Maurice sat up and snatched the paper from her hands; his laughter, but not smile, was gone.

"Basically, this has your journey programmed up to the first three days. He's placed you in a very certain spot - shipwrecked off the coast of Greece. About 100 miles off the coast of Greece." Kris clenched her fists and jaw, resisting the urge to slap the table, and leaned her head down. Mark knew she hated ships.

"A ship is picking you up - a ship of warriors, heading to Troy. According to the programming," Maurice said, looking over at Kris, "he's having you picked up by Achilles himself." Kris jerked upright at that, but Maurice stopped her from talking.

"Hush, it get's worse. Not only is one of the most famous warriors in the world giving you a ride to Troy, he's probably going to demand some sort of payment. History tells us that Achilles was indeed a womanizer-"

"Don't say anything else," Kris warned standing up. "I'm gonna kill him. Oh, I'm gonna kill him…"

Getting involved with main characters was dangerous. If you saved the life of a person who was supposed to die, the whole world could be turned upside down. Whole worlds could be changed, changing the effect the book has on society. Whether we like it or not, these stories influence society more than we'd like to think.

"We can provide you with weapons," Johnny said. "You know how to fight?"

"Yes," Kris said. "I can fight - judo, karate, street fighting, sort of. But if the person is a lot bigger than me, it gets kind of hard…" Maurice laughed again. "You've got the picture," she said. "Stupid." Angrily, she began to pace up and down the floor.

"There is no way we can change it," Johnny said regretfully. "Bad things can happen when we aren't able to make changes…make sure that next time, this Mark knows not to do anything like this again."

"Oh, he knows what he is doing," Kris said angrily. "That is simply why he does it." Johnny sighed, looking very old and very tired.

"The best you can do is anything to avoid him," Johnny said. "If you must be on the ship, then be as silent as possible, but try not to attract his attention. If you want, you can ask for provisions and wait it out till another ship comes through, though since it's programmed, I think it will happen anyways." Kris nodded slowly. "Well, lets go get you ready. We'll make your outfit a little more modern than is usual - I mean, you can't be ship-wrecked wearing a dress, or something." Maurice laughed again. The thought of Kris in a dress seemed to amuse him. Kris glared at him.

"Can someone shut up Mr. Laughter here? He's getting on my nerves."

"Mine also," Hall said. Maurice looked up.

"If it bugs you, try leaving," he said, but the laughter stopped for the moment. Kris walked out the door, following Johnny. He lead her over to a costume rack and began to flip through.

"No," he muttered before moving to the next rack. "I'm thinking leggings, cape…more like Legolas gear than anything else." Kris looked up from the bright fabrics.

"Legolas? That's not really Greek-"

"Okay, I'll pack Legolas gear. You'll wear…sailor garb. A white shirt-" he pulled one of the rack - it was baggy, loose, billowy - "and leggings," Johnny finished, walking to another rack.

"Can we ditch the leggings?" Kris asked.

"Not unless you'd rather wear a skirt," Johnny chuckled. "Even that will be highly unusual. Here," he said, handing her a pair of black leggings, made of some kind of rough material, "it could be worse." Kris held the pants up and grimaced. Johnny laughed aloud and moved a another rack with a clear sign that read, "Lord of the Rings". It was probably the longest rack in sight.

"We've had so many people heading that way that we just went and created clothes for it. Funnest week of my life." He moved straight to a section of green, gray, blue, and silvery garments labeled "Elvish". Quickly, he pulled a light blue knee length tunic of the stand and dropped it in Kristin's arms. It was made of rough material, small white flowers embroidered near the top. Exactly like what Legolas wore.

Johnny pulled the tunic back in a moment.

"Go get changed," he said. "I'll pack this stuff in a bag. You may not need it, but then again, you might. How does his gear sound for weapons?"

"Okay," Kris said hurriedly. "That sounds good. I'll be back in a minute." Kris turned and walked away through the racks, straight to where her friend Macy was standing, waiting for her.

"Hey, what's up?" the youth asked as Kris reached her. "Been trying to see you since you got here, but you know Hall."

"Yeah, I do," Kris said. "What's up with you?" Macy shrugged; her long, black hair looking cleaner than it usually did.

"There's a new guy in sector six. He's pretty cute. Oh, and I have more breaks now - something about work experience, or something." She walked with Kris towards the changing rooms. "I got to visit Mum a while ago. What's Mark up too?"

"Same old, same old. Tried to hook me up with some guy in Canada last week," Kris said, frown disappearing. Macy laughed.

"Yup, same old, same old. You here long?"

"No, I gotta leave right away. Another mission thing." Kristin walked into a changing room and closed the door.

"Where are you going this time?" Macy yelled over the door.

"Greece - and you don't know anything."

"What's wrong with Greece?" Macy asked, a little quieter.

"Oh nothing, but it's during the war with Troy," Kris said, pulling the white shirt on over her head, glad she had worn a sports bra that day. "And Mark is probably going to kill me, or something."

"Naw," Macy disagreed, "he wouldn't do that."

"How's the internship coming?" Kristin asked, changing the subject.

"Okay," Macy said. "It's not really coming, but we haven't gone backwards any. And the guy says I have a good chance of a promotion." Kris smiled as she pulled the leggings on. They were more like cotton capris, and she had seen worse. But they were _tight_.

Kris opened the door and stepped out, carrying her jeans and sweatshirt and shoes. Macy looked her up and down, grimaced, and led her towards the storage lockers.

"You don't have the better deal of this," she stated as Kris shoved her stuff in the cube foot of space with her name on it. The floor was cold on her bare feet as Kris slammed the door of the locker and walked with Macy back towards the costume area.

"Oh well," she sighed. "I'll see you when I get back - hopefully."

"How long?" Macy asked.

"Ten hours here. About a month there. Unless something happens." Macy's mouth fell open.

"A month?" She laughed. "Good luck with it. Don't fall in love."

"I don't plan too," Kristin said, smiling. "Mark told me the same thing.

"He still unattached?"

"Don't worry Macy, his heart will always be yours," Kris said with a smile as she walked back to join Johnny and Maurice. She turned and waved halfway there. "See ya in ten." Macy waved back.

"See ya in ten," she replied, sticking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and walking back towards a busy section of the building, back to work.

Johnny was holding a knap-sack, a pack like in…Lord of the Rings. He held it out toward Kristin as she walked up to him. She took it, looking inside.

"Sorry about the shoe situation," Johnny said, handing her a pair of sandals. "We just had these brought over from the Egypt stand." Maurice grabbed the pack from Kris as she sat down to pull the sandals on. They were confusing, all straps. It took her a minute or two to figure them out before she could stand up. Maurice and Johnny instantly started walking out of the costume area, towards the halls again. Kris followed, feeling stupid in her new outfit.

In a few minutes, they were back at her pad, in sector ten, also known as the experienced sector. Contrary to Kristin's hopes that Dwain had somehow returned over the past half hour, he was still gone. He looked as if he was sleeping - entirely lost in dreams. No movement except for the rise and fall of his chest. Kris glanced at him as she laid down on her own pad.

Rectangular shaped, the pads were comfortable, like a very squishy couch that made sure you would never get uncomfortable.

Maurice pushed Kris down in the pad when she sat for a moment, looking at Dwain. She hadn't know him before he had left - she had no clue about the man she going to look for.

"Stay calm," Johnny instructed. "Never panic. I'll be here the whole time, unless something happens. I'll observe you myself." Johnny moved to stand by Maurice.

"You'll be okay, kid." Maurice said. "Do you want these now?" he asked, holding up a sheath. It was a two shoulder straps, a sword on each side. Grinning, Kris sat up and pulled one out - it was a long, thin knife more than a sword. It was engraved with small figures - runes. Elvish runes, or something.

"You guys really did the works," she said, sliding the sword back into the sheath. "I'll take them now."

"You'll find the pack when you get to shore," Johnny said. "I've added it to the network programming since I can't change yours, but be aware that if you don't find it at the right time, it won't be there. Keep it near when you do find it - there's a bow and arrows with the pack." Kris slid into the harness for the sheaths. It fit perfectly, no discomfort. Grinning again, she reached up and pulled a knife out. It slid out smoothly, perfectly.

"They fit you well," Maurice said, serious for a moment. Shaking off a feeling of déjà vu, Kris nodded absentmindedly. She felt like she'd used the knives before, but in trying to remember when or where, the memory got foggy. Johnny leaned forward and attached a wire to the left side of her forehead, then another to her right.

"Put the swords away," he said, "and lay down." Kris slid the knife back in its sheath and leaned back. Maurice reached over her to the computer side of the pad.

"Hey, watch the space," Kris said as he put one elbow on her stomach, his other hand pressing buttons on the control panel. He glanced down at her.

"Don't be such a baby," he said, before completing his work. He stood up. "She's ready," he told Johnny. Kris felt the programming network kicking in. All she had to do now was close her eyes.

"Be careful," Johnny advised her. "Especially around the warriors - they are touchy-feely. And remember what I said about Achilles." Maurice smiled and laid a hand on her forehead. It was warm, heavy.

"Kid, you better come back in ten hours. Dwain was only gonna be for six." Kris looked up at him, alarmed, her dreamy eyes clearing for a moment. "Yeah, it's okay," Maurice soothed. He moved his

hand back, over her head. "Just be careful." Kris nodded, looked at Johnny and Maurice one last time, and closed her eyes.


	2. What Has Befallen You?

Everything went silent. Darkness closed in, covering everything around her. Her last sensation of Base was the weight of Maurice's hand on her head. Then even that was gone. Kristin felt the changes - of time, location, and abilities. She would be able to speak the language - actually, a few different languages, including Greek, Trojan, Germanic, and something she couldn't quite place. She could fight, shoot, and ride. She was a new person with the same face and memories. And she could swim.

The moment she thought that, Kristin's eyes opened to a world of water shining blue. She pushed her way to the surface quickly, the weight of the knives barely holding her down, and broke water, breathing in deeply. She kicked to keep herself up, and looked around.

Farther away, the remains of a ship were burning loudly - the fire looked puny under the bright sunlight, but the ship had been consumed by the flames. Turning herself around, Kris looked out at the horizon - empty. She scanned the water for drift wood. She could see some closer to the ship. Swiftly, she began swimming towards the pieces, cutting through the water with swift strokes.

She neared a larger piece - a five feet wide by ten feet long piece of logs, obviously part of the deck or walls. Wondering how the ship had caught fire, she pulled herself onto the wood. It sunk slightly under her weight, but held. Kris rolled over on her back, feet still in the water. The bright sun shone down on her face, making her close her eyes tightly. It was just like Mark to drop her in the middle of an ocean.

Kris pulled her feet out of the water and up onto the plank. The sandals were waterlogged and squishy as she stood. She almost fell back in the water before bending her knees to help absorb the roll of the ocean underneath her. She was drifting farther away from the fire, out into open sea. Kristin scanned the horizon, looking for a ship, or a sail. She squinted toward the east, trying to make out the small dot on the horizon. It could be a ship, but how was anyone supposed to see with the glare on the water?

The sudden change of scenery didn't bother Kristin anymore - it used to, the first few times she had ever traveled. With everything that Mark had sent her through, not much phased her anymore.

The first time Mark had sent her somewhere, Kris had been five - sent into the middle of the Jurassic Park. She was only there for a moment before Mark decided that they needed to talk first before sending her anywhere. Five year old Kris hadn't understood anything but the fact that Mark hadn't asked first, and that had bothered her.

You could go anywhere, as long as it had been mentioned in a book or movie. You could even enter a story - Go fight with Legolas and Aragorn, have a relationship with Will Turner, or even take the Phantom of the Opera's place in his duets. There was just one rule that Kris knew of. No changing the ending.

Most travelers attempted to avoid main characters when they entered a story because they were afraid of changing the outcome of the story. Stories effect people, whether for good or bad. Foe example, it would be bad to change anything from the Bible. In the same way that anything that happens to your body at a Base happens to your body at Base one, anything you do in the story happens in the story. No changing it back.

This was another reason Kris believed it had to be more than mental stimulation. She'd seen people come back, terrified that they had changed a story, only to realize that they were part of the story, or that what they'd done had already been in the story. It was like fate had placed them there just in time to do their own mission.

She'd also seen broken hearts. Depression induced suicide from the loss of a loved one. And sometimes when you entered a story with the intentions of saving a life and succeeded, when you returned, it was as if you'd never been there. There was no saved life, and it was depressing. All the good intentions in the world couldn't change that.

Kristin was a veteran. She'd been to World War II three different times, and, on accident, saved the life of a private from France. When she'd returned, she was informed that his death certificate was still correct. She'd flown with Han Solo, the Wright brothers, and Amelia Earhart. She'd fought at the sides of numerous superheroes and criminals. But she had never been tossed in the middle of an ocean with a burning boat and a bright sun and no idea when help would come.

Sighing, Kris dropped to the wood again, slid the sheaths off her shoulders and laid them in her lap. She pulled out both knives, laying them on the wood to dry. To her, the shining metal was beautiful. She examined the runes carved into the blades - Kris had absolutely no clue what they said. But they looked cool, even if they would probably confuse any one else who looked to closely.

The handles were made of ivory inlaid with silver strips that glinted in the sunlight. Surprisingly, as Kris studied the silver, she noticed a small engraving on each strip: a cliff with a horse standing on the edge, mane blowing in the wind that showed as wavy lines in the sky. Kris checked both handles; every strip of silver had the same engraving.

Wondering why Johnny had included that in the design of the knives, Kris absentmindedly continued her examination. Near the base, a ridge poked out, built to keep the knife from flying out of your hand during use. Kristin examined the runes on the first blade closer; in a moment, she found herself understand the writing. She smiled, but couldn't think of what language the runes were written in. After a moment of concentration, she gave up trying to remember the name of the language and simply read the engravings.

_Kirifna, Princess of the West, bears you take these up to the defense of all good. _

The Second:

_Take them up when the time is right, never unneeded. Be wary in you travels, friend._

_Rather cryptic_, thought Kristin as she looked up from the blade. Oh well - Krifina, Princess of the West, was getting her point across: defend good, and don't fight needlessly. But no matter how hard she tried, Kris couldn't remember any Kirifna, Princess of the West. in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. _Oh well_, she thought to herself. _She's probably just a name mentioned in a song. There are so many of them_.

Kris replaced both dry blades in their sheaths and stood again, slinging the straps over her shoulders again. She checked the horizon - the dot she had seen earlier was slightly bigger and definitely there. Hopefully a ship.

Kris smiled and sat down to wait, wondering if she need to make a signal or something. But, there always was the burning ship…no need for a signal with that going. Smoke on the sea…she wondered how confused people on the ship would be.

Within five minute, she could discern a sail, black against the sun. But as it drew closer, she could see that it really was black, not just a trick of the light. Hadn't she read that somewhere? Who had a black sail? It was in the back of her head, just sitting there. Loss of recent memory had always been a setback for Kris. She knew she _had_ known who was coming, but it escaped her mind during the travel.

Sighing, she pulled her knees up against her chest. Her shirt was almost dry from the sun, but the pants were less so. She shivered slightly from the breeze; the wind was cold, no matter how strong the sun was shining.

Kris wished she had something to tie her short hair back with. Her hair was still wet - the sun made it shine but wasn't drying it very quickly. Her hair was naturally jet black, grew faster than plants, and was as thick as a horse's mane. Kris kept it cut short - it was too thick and troublesome to have long. Right now, it reached just to her shoulders. They way her hair grew, she would have to cut it when she got back.

Kris stood up again, anxious for the ship to arrive. Merchant, warrior, what would it be? She stared at it for some time, looking for any sign as to the profession of the people aboard. It was still too far; no details could be made out except for the black sail. She staid standing even though she couldn't make details out, walking back and forth a little on the wood, hoping her memory would come back as she walked. It usually did within a few hours of the transition. But there wasn't a whole lot of space for pacing, and the water made for dangerous footing, so she sat down again after almost falling in again.

But she couldn't sit still. It was taking too long for the ship to arrive. Kristin sat up again, looking at the ship. It actually did look closer, but no where near arriving yet. At least it hadn't changed direction.

Kris took a few steps to the left, then to the right, then stood and looked at the ship again. It hadn't moved since she'd last looked, or so it seemed. It was far away still, way back on the horizon, the sail looking the size of the rest of the ship. Sighing, Kristin thought for a moment, then drew both knives. She swung them expertly, smiling, but still wondering how she instinctively knew how to use them. While the programming was always good, she'd never felt as much confidence as she did with these knives.

Kris decided to test herself. Still smiling faintly, she began a series of swings, jabs and slashes that she had no recollection of doing before, but that rolled through her muscles like she did them every day. It was freedom, working with both arms. Most warriors had only one sword, and a shield, but their swords were longer and heavier, harder to handle then the two smaller ones. Both her knives were long, about two and a half feet. Kris had fought with a traditional sword, and she had fought with a scimitar, but she found herself preferring the two knives.

After a few minutes, she stopped, dropping both arms to her sides after executing an intense set of swings. Yes, the two knives were best. She looked up from the shining metal into the sky, her breath coming fast. Taking a few long, deep breaths, she slowed her breathing down and looked out towards the ship again. Still far away.

Groaning, Kris dropped to the deck. It was taking much too long for the ship to arrive. She closed her eyes, arms crossed over her chest so that her hand were at her shoulders, still holding the knives. She rested in the sun, waiting on the mysterious ship. It hadn't changed direction; it hadn't changed at all since she had first seen it, except to grow larger. Nothing else could be seen on any side.

Kris laid in the sun, thinking about the ship, but not allowing herself to look. For at least five minutes, she lay on the wood trying to remember who was on the ship. It was an A name. She was sure of that. Or maybe an E…

Kris slid both knives back in their sheaths and looked out again. This time, to her joy, the ship was much closer. Way closer. Kris Frowned - time was indeed strange.

She could discern long oars now. And deck railings, and people, very small, but still people. Kris resisted the urge to wave her arms up and down - they were heading her way, no need to embarrass herself. She kept standing though, looking as the ship came closer every second. It moved so much faster now it was close.

In a minute, she could see features of the people - all men, dressed sparingly in knee length skirts and not much else. One who stood by the railing caught sight of her; he waved both arms twice, then turned and ran to another man on the deck. Kristin could hear their shouts now, though she wasn't able to make out the words. She braced her feet against the roll of the water - it would be bad to fall over right as they were drawing closer.

She watched as the sail was drawn in - they seemed to be maneuvering by oars and naught else. As the ship drew closer, she thought of a story to use for the ship's destruction. There was no gun powder in this day and age. A fire in the hold? Traitorous man set fire to the…ropes? How did these people talk?

"Greetings misfortunate one!" a man called as the ship drew within hearing range. "What has befallen you?" _Here we go_, Kris thought as she began her story.

"Greetings warriors. What war is it you are traveling to join?" Oops, not what she had been planning on saying - what happened to the traitor and fire? And where did the warrior bit come from?

There was a moment of confusion as they heard her voice, then a clear shout came through. "It's a woman!" the first man yelled. The ship was very close now; a rope was tossed over the railing, the knotted end thudding against the wood of her makeshift raft. Kris leaned down and picked it up, setting her hand against the knot and pulling the raft forward toward the boat, drawing in rope. She had no desire to jump in the water again.

Too soon, she realized that the raft couldn't get closer because of the oars. Sighing, she slid off, into the water again. Kris shoved the raft away, then turned back toward the ship, still holding the rope. She swam forward, to the side of the ship, and stopped, looking up. A head appeared over the railing - the long blonde hair hanging down over his face hid his features.

"I'll pull the rope up," he said. More faces appeared beside his.

"Hold on." Kris got a good hand on the rope and nodded up at the man, who began to pull. At first it was slightly difficult, but Kristin loosened up till she got to dry wood. Then, she turned and climbed the rest, making the ascent a little faster.

When she neared the top, the man let go of the rope with one hand and reached out to help her in. Kris grasped his wrist and pulled herself up - until she caught sight of his face. This was a man she recognized. The smiling face of Achilles, (that damn A name that she couldn't remember) greatest warrior ever born. How she recognized him she knew not, but the face was stuck in her memory as if it had always been there.

Kris gasped in surprise and let go of his wrist, falling back down into the water, barely missing the oars. She surfaced choking, water running down her face, to the sound of laughter from above. Her memory was back. No interaction with main characters. Even if it was not a world traveling rule, it was a Kristin Kingston rule. Even though she had known it before, her resolve to not interact was stronger now that she'd seen the man face to face. And even though she wanted to grab the rope again and get out of the water, she started swimming back out to open water.

She reached the raft before it drifted out of her reach, ignoring the yells of the men on the ship. Kris pulled herself back onto the wood, knives banging against her back. She sat down, facing the ship, her legs in the water.

"I'm sorry," she yelled. The men quieted when she spoke. Her wood was drifting farther away by the moment. "I can not go with you." That was all she would say. Damn the memory loss.

"Would you have us leave you here to die?" Achilles asked, pulling all of the waterlogged rope back in for another throw. "That, we can not do."

"You can turn your backs and sail away," Kris suggested, thinking fast. "I am your enemy - would you save an enemy?" The men stilled at this.

"How do we know you are an enemy?" another blonde man standing beside Achilles asked.

"By my word," Kris yelled back. Achilles threw the rope again; the knot sailed through the air in a perfect arc, but Kris slammed it away with her fist. It splashed into the water and sunk.

"Indeed, she is no enemy," Achilles said, turning around to face his men. "She says it to make us leave, although I can find no reason why." He turned back around and looked at Kristin.

"On my word, I swear that we will not harm you," he yelled. "Come aboard." Kris shook her head.

"No. Leave. I am nothing to you." Kris shook her head again, to herself. Just her luck, to have Mark program a main character...not that she hadn't already gone over this. Kris sighed loudly and pulled a splinter of wood off the raft.

"You will not come aboard?" he yelled again. His crew looked at Kris. She could see details from this distance - they were all rough looking, coarse warriors who would follow their leader into battle and death if necessary and perhaps even if not.

"I will not come aboard," Kris yelled back, swinging her legs out of the water, onto the raft. Achilles turned back to his crew and spoke quietly, but Kris could still hear him.

"Do I go and fetch the wench? She's obviously in the wrong mind." Most of the men nodded, all of them looking thoughtful. This was obviously something that didn't happen often.

"She could be a sea creature of Poseidon's," one man volunteered. Kris smiled at the comment.

"She could be a demon, sent to tempt you," another said. Kris laughed aloud at that. Achilles turned around again.

"Indeed, if that were so, it would be better to leave me behind quickly, instead of discussing with your men the dangers of one maid lost at sea. Some would say there is no danger. But I would say, leave now. Many things can lie hidden from those without sight."

Achilles leaned forward.

"You speak of danger, but what danger is there that I have not braved?" Unbeknownst to Kris, she had struck a nerve. "Come aboard," he yelled, "Or I'll come to get you myself." The men cheered, but Kris stood up straight resignedly.

"I'll not come willingly," she said, lifting her arms to her shoulders. - left to right and right to left. She pulled both knives out of their sheaths, loving the sound they made. The knives glittered in the sun as she held them in a ready position. "Leave me." Achilles only response was to hoist himself over the railing and fall, somewhat gracefully, into the water below. He surfaced and swam towards the small raft, which had managed to drift pretty far away.

"Damn," Kris said softly and sheathed both swords, reaching up and latching them in place this time. She turned and dived into the water on the other side of the raft, knowing that it would be impossible to fight from that position. He could always tip the raft.

She surfaced for air, wishing someone had thought to give her the ability to breath under water. One deep breath, and she went back down, swimming under the water towards the ship. She caught sight of Achilles near the surface and hoped he wouldn't think to look down. As quickly as she could swim, Kris reached the side of the ship and surfaced once again. The men on deck where watching their leader, yelling help, or so they thought. Kris took another deep breath and dropped beneath the water again, swimming into the shadow created by the ship. All the sailors were on the other side, facing the sun.

Kris surfaced again, gasping for breath. She floated by the ship, listening to the yells of the men on deck.

"No sign of her. Is she under the raft?" "Do you think she's drowned?" "She's disappeared!" Kris heard one yell. "Gone back to Poseidon." After that, there was silence from above. Kris kicked gently, her hand on the side of the ship. Questions burned in her head. Why were they silent?

The question was answered very suddenly when an arm came around her waist tightly. Kristin gasped in fright - no one handles being startled that way well - and kicked hard at the attacker. Achilles let go for a moment and backed off as Kris turned to face him. He studied her face in the shadow.

"Why do you fight?" he asked, keeping his distance. "You are shipwrecked. Another ship might not come for weeks."

"Some things are more important than just life," Kris said, struggling to keep her language right. It was difficult to speak properly for this time era. "You have no right to force life on anyone."

"You have no right to take your own life," he said. His hair was darkened in the shadow, wet against his head. "To do so is to thoughtlessly anger the gods. It is the way of a coward. Will you come willingly?"

"What do you think?" Kris asked sarcastically, ditching the proper language. "Do I look like I want to get on board a ship with a bunch of men with no idea how far to shore?" She eased back along the ship, hand still on the side. "I think not," Kris said. Every foot she moved back, Achilles moved forward.

"I understand your misgivings," he assured her. "And I give you my word that no one will touch you without your permission." Kris shook her head.

"I'd still rather not," she said simply.

"Then you'll come unwillingly," he replied. He looked up at the men who had come to the side. "Toss us a rope," he yelled. In an instant, a rope was thrown into the water. Kris backed off further, around the corner of the ship, back into the sun. For a moment, Achilles was out of sight, but he swam around the corner right behind her. He came towards her, diving under the water at the last second. Kris dived to the side - she felt her feet brush against his chest. He recovered in an instant, turning and swimming towards her under that water. Kris was backed up against the boat, no where to go but left or right.

For a moment, it was just the two of them anticipating which direction the other would move. Achilles was in his element, she could tell. Kris thought for a moment, then smiled. No, she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of catching her.

"I see there's no escape here," she said softly, swimming forward a little bit. Achilles looked at her, eyes narrowing. Kris reached out, thinking about slapping him, but abandoned the idea without much debate. Instead, she tugged the rope from his hands. "I guess I'm going with the lot of you," she said, turning and swimming toward the side of the ship. She threw the rope up over the railing. The blonde who had stood beside Achilles caught it. Bracing her feet against the side, Kris pulled herself up, refusing to let her feet slip.

She climbed up the side, pulling heavily on the rope, but making it to the top without slipping. Once there, she ignored the hand reach toward her and pulled herself over the railing. Kristin stood on the deck, dripping water as Achilles topped the rail, making the climb in a few seconds less than she had. A sailor came forward quickly with a robe that was draped around his shoulders.

Kris stood, looking at the deck, trying to ignore the men around her. Bashful maiden, that was it. Quiet, no talking, no fighting. Jump off as soon as they had caught some speed, pad would pull her back before she could die completely. Good plan, for now.

A hand appeared in her line of vision with the friendly brown planks. Achilles tipped her head up. Kris met his eyes boldly, trying not to squint, as the sun was shining in her eyes. He looked at her for a moment.

"Do you have a name?" he asked. For good measure, Kris shook her head. Achilles laughed softly, turning his head for a moment, then looking back. "Come on, tell us your name."

"My name?" Kris pondered out loud. "Of what worth is a name? Names can be changed, hidden, disguised-"

"Your name." Achilles stated, this time more forcefully. He had a degree of power in his voice - obey me or die type thing.

"Kris. You can call me that." Achilles pulled the robe off his own shoulders and swung it around her own, still looking her in the eye.

"What kind of a name is Kris?" he asked. Kristin shrugged. The wet cloth of the robe stuck up from her knives a little uncomfortably; she shrugged her shoulders, feeling confined, and wondered about the blades. Were they both still there?

"It's really Kristin, if you must know. I think it's Swedish." Self consciously, Kris pulled the robe off. She reached up and untied one on the knives and began to draw it. Before she got very far, Achilles grabbed her wrist, while most of the men on deck stepped forward as well. He looked at her dangerously, then loosened his grip, still looking her in the eye.

Kris shook him off and drew the sword the rest of the way, slinging the sheaths off her shoulders. She pulled the other knife out and dumped all water out of both sheaths, then laid them on the deck to dry in the sun. Ignoring the stares of the men around her, she kneeled down beside the sheath and set the first knife down. Still holding the robe, she rubbed the blade of the knife over the driest part gently, drying the water off. When the water was gone, she laid it down and picked the other up to do the same.

Kris felt, not saw, Achilles come up behind her. He leaned down over her, placing one hand on her shoulder for either balance or good measure, and picked the knife up off the deck, holding it up to the sun. She looked up when she finished wiping the blade of the other. He was swinging the knife, a look of amusement on his face.

"Why do you carry these?" he asked, almost laughing. "Surely not for defense." he examined the light, thin blade.

"Yes," Kris said, standing up. She pulled the knife out of his hand, offended. "For defense." Stepping back, she swung the knives in a concentrated arc, loosening her arm muscles. The sound of the blades slicing though the air cut the stillness. Kris whipped the knives around as she had practiced earlier, never entering a fighting stance, just doing complicated arm movements.

"If I can not kill my opponent," she said, still swinging, "than at least I can confuse him and have others do the work." Achilles laughed, and Kris stopped, dropping her arms to her sides.

"Too light," he said, taking the knife from her again. "But sharp," he continued, testing the blade on his thumb. Male warriors were stupid that way. "Look Patrocles, this is what a warriors maid fights with," he said, turning to the blonde man standing at his side and tossing the knife across. He caught it lightly and examined the blade. When she heard the name, Kristin knew who he was - the cousin of Achilles, by some a healer, by some musician, by some Achilles' lover, but always the cousin. The one who is killed by Hector when he pretends to be Achilles and leads his cousin's men into battle…

He looked like Achilles, but younger and not as hardened. His eyes were green instead of blue. He held the knife, swinging it for a moment as Achilles turned to the rest of the men.

"Back to work. Hoist the sail, we have a deadline to meet. No doubt Odysseus is already on shore, laughing at me from his post." The men cleared away, to different parts of the ship. Kris heard the material of the sail snap in the wind as it was raised. She began to look for an opportunity to escape again, her eyes on the railing and shining water. She looked out over the sun covered surface, noticing clouds on the horizon. The sunny day would soon end. Kristin stepped over to the railing and looked out, eyes searching for the raft. It was far off - no way she could find it if she was in the water.

Achilles turned back toward her, smile on his face at some comment from a sailor. He frowned when he saw her scanning the horizon, though. Softly, he came up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. Kris tensed at his touch, contemplating shoving his hands off.

"No other ship will come," he said in her ear. She shivered slightly and shrugged her shoulders, trying to make his hands fall away. They didn't.

"I don't expect one," she said loudly. "Do you mind?" she asked, frustrated, as he moved his hands forward. Kris turned around and shoved his hands away. "So what happened to your word?" she snarled. "Watch it, seriously." Patrocles grinned, but hid it well. Achilles himself frowned.

"Oh, we do have a wild one here, don't we?" he asked Patrocles. He didn't look much older than Kris himself. "What's wrong?" Achilles asked her, moving forward slightly. Kris raised the other knife and placed the tip of it on his bare chest.

"Keep your distance, please," she said, her voice as deadly as she could make it. "Your kind doesn't understand the concept of space." Achilles brushed the knife away after a moment.

"Will you jump?" he asked, changing the subject. Kris didn't answer. He pressed further though. "Will you jump again?" he asked, dead serious. Kris shook her head. A lie.

"On your word, you won't jump. On your honor," Achilles said. Kris thought for a moment. Just another lie. But on her honor? Something like that was with you wherever you went. And already she had thought about it too much to lie against her honor. Slowly, she shook her head. Achilles nodded.

"I thought so." He reached out and pulled the knife out of her hand, tossing it over to Patrocles, who caught it deftly.

"I'll sheath them when the sheaths are dry," Patrocles offered, laying them down on top of a bale of canvass and leaving, like a smart boy would. Achilles turned again and leaned against the railing beside Kris.

"What happened to your ship?" he asked, indicating the smoke that was now far in the distance. Kris sighed.

"I'm not sure," she said. "At the time, I was in the cabin with my…guide. We heard shouts and came out. The deck was ablaze - someone spilled war oil that we carried for a nearby lord," Kris said carefully. Achilles snorted.

"Fine, keep your story," he said lightly. "You will tell the truth some time." He said it with assurance, like he had the knowledge that one day, all her secrets would be revealed. It was slightly uncomfortable "Where are you from? I have never heard your accent before." He looked at her as he spoke; Kris wondered how many other questions were hidden behind those eyes.

"Uh…" Kris racked her brain. "No where you've been," she finally said, then regretted it. "No where in particular. I, uh, have no place to call home."

"No home?" Achilles asked, turning around and leaning his back against the rail. He looked over at her again. "That is strange," he said, eyebrows raised. Kris laughed.

"Oh, you have no idea," she said. "There's more than that, trust me." After a silent moment, Kris realized this probably wasn't one of the smartest things to have said.

"Like the fact you seem to know me," Achilles said ponderously, looking up at the sail. The sun was beginning to set, casting shadows on the deck and across his face as he looked at her. Kris gazed into the sun.

"I know a little," she said softly, "but only what I've heard," she added quickly. Achilles lifted a hand to her cheek and turned her face towards his again.

"Are you a seer then?" he asked, ignoring the second part of her statement. Kris shook her head and pushed hid hand away.

"Just what I've heard," she said again, turning once again to look towards the sun, wishing he wouldn't touch her so often.

"What do you mean?" Achilles asked quickly. "Do you see things in dreams, or do you know by visions?" He seemed very avid about knowing about what she was denying to have. "Do the gods tell you?"

"No!" Kris snapped. "I mean, hearing from travelers, that sort of thing," she added quickly, hoping he wasn't offended.

"You must have met some people that have been very intimate with me, then," Achilles said. "Because when I look in your eyes, there's a look that tells me we've met." Kris took a breath to answer, something smart, probably, but it never got out. For some reason, she felt the same. She felt she knew how he moved, his gestures and looks; like everything that he did reminded her of someone she used to know very well.

"No," she said after a minute, her smart reply gone. "Just what I've heard."

"Of course," Achilles said. "So, which goddess is your patron?"

"I'm not a seer!" Kris snapped. "Are you really hard of hearing? Are you deaf?" Achilles laughed out loud, a laugh that, surprisingly, extended to his eyes.

"Fine then," he said. "Here, we'll have a deal." Kris scowled at him. "I will not force you to tell me about you being a seer, but you will tell me about your home." he raised his eyebrows as Kris shook her head. "Seems fair to me," he proclaimed.

"Why would I tell you about either?" Kris asked.

"Because I asked, and it's only polite," he told her.

"You, who denied me my right to not accept travel on this ship, is talking about politeness?" Kris laughed grimly. "Now I am confused."

"It's simple," Achilles said. "Tell me about being a seer, or tell me of your home." He looked around, then leaned towards her, his voice lowering. "I'm running out of topics of speech," he told her. "Just choose one." Kris scowled.

"Can I make a place up?" she asked. Achilles nodded.

"I just want the men to see a confident version of their in control leader, for now," Achilles explained. "You could lend a hand." Kris laughed and looked away from him, out towards the water again. Who was it? Why couldn't she remember who he reminded her off? The idea of throwing herself over the edge was beginning to look less appealing the more she thought about it.

"I live in a colder place," she said. For a moment, her own words surprised her. What? She had been thinking of describing Hawaii. But for some reason, the words seemed to roll off her tongue without her thinking. So she latched onto the chain of thought, wondering how it got there and what it meant. Achilles' first time hearing it may very well have also been Kristin's first time hearing it.

"A land of stone and sea, a land of fields and mountains, a land of rushing rivers made of ice water from glaciers larger than kingdoms," Kris said. "In the North," she continued, and when she said north, she got the feeling it was a capital N, a place rather than a direction. "A land of farmers and miners, herders and carpenters, blacksmiths and weavers, doctors and millers, lowly servant and highest king, working side by side. A place where danger seems to be everywhere to a traveler, but in reality, is often nothing more than the lay of the land. In the North," she continued, "where horses choose the child, where sailors don't set sail till winter, where trees never grow more than a hundred feet, but common grass can be over ten. A place where trouble-makers leave the world, but not into death, and a place where peace and fellowship are cherished above all else."

Taking a breath to continue, Kris realized she had nothing else to say. She shut her mouth uneasily and glanced at Achilles. He was watching her, eyes bright, but looked away when she turned towards him.

Achilles stood beside her, silent, as Kristin turned to face the sun again, the wind blowing her hair across her face. Annoyed, she reached up and tucked it behind her ear.

"That was a made-up place?" Achilles asked after a moment of silence. "You seem surprisingly passionate about a made up place."

"Always the actress," Kris said in excuse, but her words had no emotion in them. The description of the North left her feeling strangely empty and…homesick. Staring down at the ocean, she blinked hard to keep tears from falling. _How weird_, she thought, even as her heart seemed to be breaking over nothing but a few words. _Is it part of the programming?_

Achilles looked at her for a moment, then stood up straight. He was about five inches taller than Kristin, his skin bronzed by the sun, blond hair tussled and longer than Kristin's. He was strongly muscled, used to the hard life, even though he knew it little.

He glanced down at Kristin's leggings and sandals; a smile crossed his face.

"This is strange garb you wear," he said casually, lifting a hand to her sleeve underneath the robe and pulling lightly on the breezy material. "I've never seen the likes."

"Speak for yourself," Kris retorted. "Where I come from, men would rather eat dirt than wear a skirt." For a moment, she confused herself. _North or earth? Both? _

"Then it is strange indeed," Achilles remarked lightly. "Do all women in your country dress so unfeminine? If I had not seen your face and heard your voice, I would have guessed you a man. A very slight man, but still…." _Ah, the wonders of a sports bra, _Kris thought to herself. "Of course, that was at a distance," Achilles finished, glancing over at Kris in a away that made her blush slightly.

"Ah, but even men here wear skirts," Kris countered. "I hate skirts - wouldn't be caught dead in one, even back home." Achilles shrugged.

"What kind of woman are you then? You yourself said you're not a warrior. You are obviously not a mother, or a housewife, and you are not a refined lady of the court. Your manners are somewhat lacking. So, what occupation do you have?" He raised his eyebrows. "Is there more to you than meets the eye?" Kris allowed herself a smile.

"Isn't there to everyone?" she asked softly, thinking about Maurice back at Center. For a moment, her thoughts drifted, returning to her mission, to find Dwain. She still didn't know what Johnny meant when he said she would know. So far, this travel had begun in one big wreck. What she needed to do now was-

Kris jumped slightly as a hand came down on her shoulder. Achilles peered down into her face, much to close for comfort.

"No, I am not a refined court lady," Kris finished lightly, but once again, there was a strange twinge in her mind that reminded her of something, not that she could remember. "I…I only recently left my father's home," she continued. "I was sent by him, with my guardian, to Athens, for an…engagement. I fear they will think me dead id I don't arrive in Athens within four days," she said, her mind working fast, even through her confusion.

"Too bad we are headed in the opposite direction," Achilles said with a shrug.

"When will you next stop at shore?" Kris asked cautiously.

"Tomorrow morning," Achilles said, "but I don't think you'll be getting off there." Kris scowled for a moment, but wiped it off her face before turning to face Achilles.

"Why?" she asked abruptly, stepping back from the rail. The sun cast long shadows over everything, including her face.

"Oh, I can't leave a lady in a port without her guardian with her," Achilles said, pretending shock. "You must be looked after. And the best place for that is on this ship, with me and my men. Once we reach Troy, I'll arrange for you to be sent home, or to Athens. But I can't leave you alone on shore, surrounded by cutthroats and criminals." Kristin's mind was racing wildly as he spoke, her face paling a shade or two.

"Better cutthroats and criminals with my knives than you and your men defenseless," she retorted. "I thank you for pulling me out of the water, but I will not stay on this ship any longer than absolutely necessary. My betrothed will think the worst of this situation already. No, I'll leave this ship as soon as you dock."

"No, you won't," Achilles said firmly. "You've no right to leave until I agree. Not tomorrow, not in seven day's time. You're coming to Troy."

"Oh really?" Kris asked slowly, her mind racing. She could feel her heartbeat quickening. This was not good at all. "That's news to me. I wonder why-"


	3. The New Weapon

"Ship up ahead!" the call came from the front of the ship, breaking the stand off between Achilles and Kristin. Achilles turned, grabbing her wrist, and pulled Kris to the front of the ship, up the small set of stairs, and onto the balcony that overlooked the water ahead of them. She followed willingly, her own eyes scanning the sea.

"There, on the left," the man said; pointing out the ship was pointless. Only a blind man could miss it; Kris wondered how'd they'd managed to have just caught sight of it. The ship's long shadow stretched across the water as it sailed closer. "Must have caught up while we were having trouble," the man said quietly, looking sideways at Kris as he spoke. "It's got the wind."

They waited in silence for the boat to reach yelling distance. Achilles squinted towards it.

"Can you make out the symbol of the sail?" he asked the sailor.

"It's plain white, a merchant," Kris said. Both men glanced at her. She shrugged. "Can't you see the flag? He knows there's a war going on - truce flag is already raised." Both men looked at the single mast - indeed, a white flag was flapping in the breeze, right above the flag that showed the ship as hailing from Sparta. Achilles raised his eyebrows and looked over at the sailor, a man named Cleon. The man turned his eyes back to sea, where none could see his own amusement but the merpeople.

"Very well then, can you tell us the number of warriors hidden below? Perhaps even in the goods on deck?" Achilles asked her, placing his hand on her back as he spoke. He pointed forward, toward the midsection of the ship. "See the captain? What is he doing? And the man beside him, what is his business?" He leaned toward Kris as he spoke, his eyes mocking past the serious tone of his voice. "And that boy on the mast? What is his purpose in this scheme?"

"Oh, don't be difficult," Kris snapped, stepping to the side, away from his hand. Achilles straightened up, eyes glittering. "There are no men in the bales, the crew is below, the captain is looking at this ship, the man beside him is first mate, urging the captain to bargain for their lives rather than fight, if necessary. As for the boy on the mast, he has just finished raising the flag, and he is most likely a relative of a sailor or the captain." Kris faced Achilles and raised her eyebrows. "Or else, he is a stow-away scamp also known as a cabin boy."

"You see much," Achilles said after a moment. "These are the same things I have seen. But _we _can't be seen with a woman onboard this ship - it's bad luck." He put his hand on her arm and pulled her down the deck, toward the small cabin at the rear. Kris dug her heels in.

"Afraid of what they'll think?" she called out, desperate to get any reason to stay on deck. She dragged her feet on the deck, but Achilles still pulled her along.

"No, but I don't trust your intentions," he said, pushing the curtain across the door to the side. He pulled her inside. "And I would definitely not be worried about any thoughts the captain might have," he said, looking into her face, then down.

"Oh, what could I even do now?" Kris asked angrily. "I think you're just-"

"Don't say it," Achilles warned, stepping out of the dim room and turning back to look at her again. "Stay silent." He dropped the curtain. For a moment, Kris could see his shadow against the sun, then he walked away. She could hear him yelling for someone to watch the door. She turned around, scanning the room. The reed and wood walls were patchy in places; light shone through small cracks and gaps in the structure. There was a cot against the opposite wall; armor hung beside it, gleaming dimly in the faint light. A huge sword lay on the cot, polish tools around it. Kris knew that this must be Achilles' place on the ship.

A trunk sat against the wall at the foot of the cot, but other than that, the tiny room was empty. Kris turned back around, facing the curtained door. Light shone through it, and she could see the shadow of a man walk up and stand in front of the door, hand at his waist -- probably on his sword. She sighed.

Guard on the door. Ship that was probably the only way to leave Achilles and his men behind approaching. Probability of getting from this ship to that -- not likely. Kris leaned against the wall by the door, listening to the voices outside. Achilles talked loudly with Patrocles about "keeping the girl out of sight". Kris shook her head and smiled. If she wanted out, she was coming out.

The rush on her brain erased her constant feeling of déjà vu as she worked to figure out another plan. Her brain become more focused and sharp. The water below was still and option. She needed to remember that.

A call shot across the water from the approaching ship.

"We are merchants from Sparta, Sailing to Knossos." Kris raised her head and listened. If Achilles had believed her story, it would be best for him to just send her to Athens with the merchant. "We have fine merchandise to sell there."

"Have you heard from Odysseus of late?" Achilles asked. The reply came back negative.

"Though we have heard news of the war," the captain yelled, as if to redeem himself. "News came to us before we departed from shore about a seer who has been lost on the sea. She is believed to be able to provide information and council from the gods concerning this war." Kristin's head went up as she listened in disbelief. "It seems she was secured by the great ones, but in a slip of fate, she had been lost during the storm."

"Indeed," Achilles said. "Tell me more of this." Kris shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly as she wondered how much longer the programming of Mark would plague her. This couldn't have come at a worse time. Not to mention it was wrong. If the ship was on fire this morning, how could it have been lost in a storm? Wouldn't Achilles wonder the same thing?

"They said she is from the north, a dark place without sun. Her hair is black as night, though her skin be white." Kris glanced down at her arm. Not _that _white. "Her hair is the key, they told us. Full of secrets that are given to her by the gods." Kris resisted the urge to laugh at that, the biggest clue as to the programming. A line from _Mean Girls_. That was just oh-so-much like Mark.

"And did they tell you the name of this seer?" Patrocles yelled. Kris could hear the disbelief in his voice -- after all, who in their right mind would believe that someone's hair held secrets?

"They said her name is in northern shadow."

"So we have acquired a new weapon," Achilles mused.

"That is what we were told," the captain said, relief apparent in his voice as the questioning ended. "I know not what truth was spoken."

"Strange," Achilles said, still loudly, but more to his ship than the other. "I thought there was something strange about her arrival." To the other ship, he spoke again.

"Thank you for your news," he yelled loudly. "If you meet Odysseus between here and Knossos, tell him that Achilles desires to speak with him." Nothing but silence came from the other ship. Achilles was a well-known and feared name all across the civilized world and in parts of the uncivilized one. "Tell him that he is late, and we approach Meliboea before him."

"I will do so, great one," the captain of the merchants replied, bowing low. "The god's be with ye in Troy."

"And with you in Knossos," Achilles replied, clearly dismissing the other ship. Kris could hear shouts as men began to raise the sails again. The ship began to pick up speed as ot caught the wind. It wasn't much to feel…just a force underneath that seemed to run through everything.

The talking on deck resumed again, and Kris contemplated walking out of the cabin. But there was still the man guarding the door, and Achilles would no doubt come in himself in a moment. Sighing, Kristin slid to the floor, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. Now Achilles would be certain that she was a seer, that she had lied to him, and that she needed to stay on board.

The sun from the door cast a brilliant swath of light across the wall. The curtain blew slightly in the breeze, a bit of cold air coming through to her face. Under different circumstances, Kris would have loved to be in Greece. Beautiful land, bright blue seas, diverse people…it would have been wonderful to experience it as a person with absolutely no importance. But now, in the company of one of the Greats of this era, she was jeopardizing the future to the world. One choice of hers could send this entire war in a different direction. A different direction could change the world.

Kris knew there was only one way out of this one. She'd have to make the pad pull her back to Base. The easiest way of doing that was to die. If her way of dying was to drown, surely the people at Base could save her before she really died.

To drown, or not to drown…that was the question that burned Kristin's thoughts. The risk was minimal, and if her brainwaves went crazy, Johnny would no doubt pull her back just to check. But to intentionally kill yourself to get out of a bad situation… a coward's way out, Achilles had said. Wasn't it? Wasn't that what Kris herself thought?

Kris stood up, pressed her back against the wall by the door, and made up her mind. She would jump over the rail, disappear under the water, and be pulled back to Center. If she could actually stay under the water and purposefully drown herself, it was a good plan. It would be more cowardly to shrink from death when she knew it was necessary to keeping the world the same.

_Couldn't the world use a change?_

Kris inwardly winced. _That's not the point_, she told herself. _What if it was a bad change?_

_When love triumphs over war, how can the change be bad? _

Kris shook her head again and ignored her thoughts. They weren't making this any easier.

_I would be on the war side. How could that help love triumph? _

There was another thing to consider. _Can I really keep myself underwater long enough to drown?_ Kris shivered. She'd never liked swimming; she panicked easily near water. Before she had time to consider this new idea, Kris acted. _I'm not going to let myself wimp out of this. Just move_.

Footsteps coming closer pulled her attention outwards. Another figure was standing by the first shadow against the door.

"Leave us for now, but stay on the alert," Achilles said quietly. His voice was muffled through the curtain; his tone of voice wasn't. Kris pressed her back up against the wall right beside the door. If she had any luck, he'd throw the curtain against her as he entered, and she would have time to slip out before he could lay a hand on her. He sounded… she took a breath, watching the shadow on the far wall. He sounded angry. Then that curtain was pushed against her, just as she'd hoped, and he entered, his eyes searching the room. Kris ducked out before he could see her, and headed for the rail.

One glance told Achilles that Kristin was no longer in the room. He cursed loudly and flung the curtain back again. Kris heard the curse and laid her hand on the rail, hoisting herself over the top. Achilles ran forward at high speed, reaching towards her, but Kris fell before he could reach her, his robe slipping down to the deck as she dropped.

A splash came from below, and bubbles rose from place where Kris had landed, already behind the ship. Achilles cursed again and jumped over the rail himself, surfacing quickly.

"Patrocles!" he yelled loudly. A face appeared at the rail. Patrocles nodded without words and left to handle the ship. Achilles cursed again and swam toward the spot where Kristin had gone under, bubbles still surfacing.

Kris panicked for a moment, her mouth open and seawater saturating her lungs. She kicked towards the surface, her heart beating like crazy, her chest already burning. There was a reason she hated swimming -- Kristin couldn't hold her breath for long before she began to feel trapped. Now, she had descended deep with her mouth open, exactly as she had meant to, like she had planned she would, and her arms were starting to feel heavy, to heavy to try to swim, to heavy to even move, but her throat was burning, and she needed air…she needed air...

Kris knew that if she would stop panicking, she'd realize that this was good. She would be pulled back. _Does dying have an impact on your sanity greater than any that could come with living?_

Kris kicked again, trying to reach light. Darkness was growing on the edge of her vision, her chest heavy, bursting, burning. A figure reached the light above. Kris stopped kicking, the darkness on the edge of her vision now creeping over the whole space of her eyes.

The last thing she saw before blackness took over was the far-off silhouette of a man against the sun; then Kris was in a vortex of darkness and pain, sucked back to a place where breath was possible if there wasn't so water in her lungs.

Kris could feel the material of the Pad again as she attempted to open her eyes. She could hear voices, but no words. Someone pressed hard on her chest. She still couldn't breath. Then lips pressed against hers, shoving air inside her water filled lungs, and there was another hard thump on her chest. Kris rolled over, choking on the water that was coming out of her throat. A hand patted her shoulder; voices turned relieved. After a minute, Kris opened her eyes, done choking, and looked up.

Johnny was standing there, a walkie-talkie to his mouth. He smiled tight-lipped down at Kris and kept talking.

"Is there a way we could get her programmer up her to Center? He's going to kill her one day, with those protections he's installed." Kris rolled over again, her eyes focusing on the ceiling far, far above her. A face entered her line of sight - it was Maurice, leaning over her, concerned expression on his face.

"Kris," he stated. "You were gone about three minutes. What are you trying to do, kill yourself?"

"That was the general idea," Kris said, her throat sore from the water. Maurice shook his head and sat down beside her.

"It's been paused. We couldn't get you back unless we paused it. It took us a moment to figure it out. Your cousin really wants you to experience this story. Do you know why?" It took a moment for Kris to respond.

"I can't go back. It's the middle of the sea, a hugely main character, and no chance he's letting me off when we get to shore. I can't go back. I hate water." Sitting up, Kris hugged her knees to her chest and tried to steady her breathing. _No hyperventilating. No more panicking_.

"Well, we can't change it. The story is only paused. You know, they are real people, they can think, and we can't have you disappear. Anyways, we're not going to risk pulling the plug. And even if we did, Base is part of the Network that your brother accesses. Being here instead of there would still put too much strain on your mind." Maurice stopped and looked at her. His expression softened. "How bad is it anyways?"

Kris told him about the story -- the shipwreck, the problem with the missing seer, why she'd chosen to drown herself. Maurice grimaced.

"No matter how bad it is," he told her, sitting down on the edge of the Pad, "never do that again. I almost died when you came back up choking, right in the middle of my best knock-knock joke." Kris was silent. "Well, not exactly," Maurice said slowly. "We were paying attention. But Kris," he continued. "You would have had, maybe, two minutes left to live if we hadn't pulled you back." He tried to meet her eyes, but Kris kept her gaze down on her water-streaked legs. Maurice sighed and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It can't be that bad," he said encouragingly. Johnny finally got off his walkie-talkie.

"Kris, _neve_r, **ever** kill yourself hoping to get out," he scolded. "You don't ever do that. You might not be pulled back in time, and even if you are, you might not be treated fast enough. You never, ever, ever do that." Johnny looked down at Maurice and Kris, the dark man's hand on her shoulder, and the smile playing at Kristin's blue lips. He grinned.

"I'm not interrupting something special, am I?" he asked jokingly. Maurice snatched his hand back.

"Of course not," he said. "She's a child, John. I'm just talking some sense into her."

"I have to go back?" Kris asked, making sure she'd heard what she thought she'd heard.

"Yes, and now," Johnny said. "This program is very particular. Your cousin, if you don't mind me saying, is that smartest dumb-ass programmer I've ever dealt with." Kris smiled.

"You could say that," she agreed. "Next time I see him, he is going to be so, so sorry he ever pinned to the bed this morning." Maurice laughed and stood up, patting Kris on the top of her head. He must have thought she was joking since no major reaction came out. Forcing anyone to go anywhere was against the laws of World Traveling. Programmer and traveler were a partnership; still, the programmer was never supposed to force anything on the traveler.

"Your soaked," Maurice stated simply. Kris nodded, shivering. Base was not warm.

"I have to start the program again," Johnny said. "I want you to swim to the surface the minute you are back there. And don't worry about the whole main thing. I'll, uh, try to take care of it, if anything bad happens."

"Thanks Johnny," Kris said with a sigh, knowing that what Johnny said he'd do was impossible. Johnny knew it too; he looked at her sadly before turning back to the computer. "He was probably about to save me anyways." Maurice laughed.

"Is he really that much of a hero?" he asked as Johnny started typing.

"Just like the stories," Kris said. "I'm not afraid of him, really, but I don't know how to make a zero impression without obeying him. I mean," she continued. "If I do what he tells me to, he won't remember. He expects obedience, so if I give it, he won't have anything to remember. But I don't feel like obeying this man who has zero interest in my health. He wants what he wants and does not care if I don't feel the same way." Maurice frowned.

"Be careful around men like him," he said softly. "You can never know what they're really thinking."

"Or men like you," Johnny said from the side. Kris laughed as Maurice raised his eyebrows.

"It's only been three minutes?" she asked to clarify, hoping she'd heard wrong. Johnny nodded. She took a deep, steadying breath and settled back down into the Pad. Maurice leaned across Kris to push the same buttons he had last time.

"Alright Kris, if you need it paused again, I want you to think about broccoli," Johnny said, "with cheese. I'll get the brainwaves and pause it for you so you can talk with us. But you only have two pauses left." He looked worried. "Now you know that death won't work, don't try it," he said, trying to keep his voice from sounding harsh; he failed.

"I'll get sick thinking about broccoli, especially with cheese," Kris complained, choosing to ignore his last sentence. "But okay, if it will get me back for a little bit." Maurice stood up, looking down at her.

"Any progress with Dwain?' he asked. Kris shook her head, fighting the familiar pull again.

"I still don't know what you mean," she said. "I haven't seen anything concerning him."

"You will," Johnny said. "Now go. Be safe. If it's bad, don't hesitate to think…broccoli with cheese. Remember the cheese."

"Okay," Kris said, the pull stronger now. "But what if he does something bad? Can I get out then?"

"If he oversteps his bounds, I will personally go and shoot him ten times with a 12-gauge," Maurice said. "World-changing consequences or not."

"Children, children," Johnny chided jokingly. "Best defense is to be careful," he told Kris. She nodded, almost unable to keep her eyes open any longer.

"Bye," she mumbled, as her eyelids shut with a force.

This time, the feel of water was instantaneous; the warmth from the sun-warmed liquid flooded through her cold body. The next sensation was of being pulled to the surface -- not by a network program, but by strong arms wrapped around her torso and arms.

Achilles pushed upward, back toward the sun and air, the struggling body of Kristin in his arms. _Good to keep up appearances_. They broke surface, Achilles holding onto her as easily as if they were on land.

"Foolish girl!" he raged as he began the swim towards the near-motionless ship, ignoring her struggles. "Life is a gift from the gods. You tempt them too much, and they might well take it."

"Oh, haven't you ever wanted to confuse the fates?" Kris asked as she stopped kicking. Achilles pulled her close against him with one arm around her waist. Swimming was difficult when he could only use one arm for the two of them. "You know, die before they cut the thread?"

"No," he answered. With a sigh of disgust, he stopped, turning her around in front of him. Kris had never felt absolutely helpless compared to anyone, but he made it seem as if he could break her neck by snapping his fingers.

"How long have you been this way?" he asked. "Do not lie to me." He kept his eyes on her, face stern.

"Do you want the truth?" Kris asked, raising her eyebrows. He nodded. "Well then, only since I saw you on the ship." _That time three years ago doesn't count_.

"Why?" Achilles shot back, taking it all in stride.

"Because this is the wrong place for me to be," Kris said quietly. "Me being here can upset the balance of the universe." She took a breath. "I have a different war to worry about," she finished, with a thought that was not her own. Kris stopped, slightly confused herself where that had come from. Achilles breathed in sharply.

"Is it a war of the heart?" he asked her. "Your's beats faster now."

"How would you know?" Kris asked, somewhat scornfully. Her legs were getting tired as she kicked to stay afloat.

"Oh, maybe it's just the color in your face," he said lightly, reaching out and running his finger over her cheek. Kris jerked her head back and moved a few feet away, trying to keep emotion off her face. "But more likely it's your breathing; it's quickened dramatically. Do you always blush so easily?" he asked as Kris felt her cheeks burn.

She turned around and began to swim, long strokes back toward the ship, to escape his eyes for a moment. Achilles laughed and caught up with her in a second, blocking her from the front.

"Why do you wish to die?" he asked again, his face serious.

"I already told you!" Kristin raged. "_Why_ do you persist in asking stupid questions?"

"Because I like answers," he said, moving forward slightly. "You are young, strong, healthy, beautiful -- why would you want to die?" He lifted a hand to her cheek again, but she pushed it away and tried moving back again. He caught her hand and held it up.

"I don't necessarily _want _to die," Kris answered. "It's more like I had a choice, and I chose to die, to preserve my own sanity." Achilles looked at her silently for a moment, then spoke.

"You will come with me to Troy," Achilles said, in a tone of finality. "After what I have just been told, I would be a fool to let you go. I do not like it when someone lies to me," he added, his eyes narrowing. "You will sail to Troy with us."

"Captivity can only last so long," Kris said, moving to swim around him. She definitely needed to rest now; her legs were burning. "And you can't expect me to not attempt escape if I have the chance." She dipped beneath the water for a moment, coming up ten feet away to disguise the fact that her legs were tired. For what reason, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the near-death experience. Maybe it was the feeling of near-hopelessness that invaded her mind.

"Yes, I can," Achilles said, wrapping an arm around her waist again and pulling her against him as he swam toward the ship one-armed. Kris stopped kicking for a moment, to rest. Achilles spoke, his voice from behind her head.

"I will expect you to obey what I tell you," he said. "I want complete obedience and truth. Until we reach Troy, you are as good as my slave in that you _will _obey-"

Kristin shoved violently away from him, pulling at his arm as he clung to her waist. She kicked against him in a sudden panic that the word 'slave' had brought to the surface -- oh hated word, curse him, let go!

Achilles brought his other arm around, trying to pin her arms to her sides. The both of them dipped under the water for a moment as they struggled. They both rose in a moment, breaking water. Kris spat out the salty water and dug her fingernails into his arm. Achilles yelped and they went under again. Kris kicked out and thought violently about drowning a head of broccoli in cheese…

"Kris?" Johnny asked unbelievingly as she sat up, dripping water, right after Maurice and he had sent her off. She sat up, ripping the wires off her head, and stood from the Pad.

"I'm not doing it," she said vehemently. "I will not be a slave again. Not to that stinking, disgusting pig, not to anyone." She began to walk down the hall, dripping water, ignoring Dwain's motionless body to the side.

"Kris, talk to me," Maurice said as she ran down the hall. "When have you been a slave before?" He followed behind her, but Kris didn't answer; she didn't know the answer. She just knew that she couldn't think with the fear that was flooding her mind. Johnny was busy saving her information before the pad thought they were canceling the trip; he didn't run after her.

Kris rushed back into the main working area. Most ignored her and Maurice; they were good at paying attention to their own business. Kristin slowed down and walked into the costume section again, going straight to the Lord of the Rings section again.

"Maurice, I need a knife," she commanded, stopping at the weapons rack. She grabbed a small sheath and pulled the knife out. It was the knife Aragorn got in Lothlorien, broad and curved slightly, a hunting knife. She thrust in back into the sheath and turned.

"This will do, " she told Maurice, walking right past him, back into the hall. "Can I take it?"

"Uh, no," Maurice said, grabbing at her as she stalked past. "Why do you need it?" Kris ignored him and ran down the hall again. "Oh, God," Maurice groaned, and followed her. An aide stopped him though, near the entrance, with an urgent need in Programming that couldn't be put off. Frustrated, Maurice followed the aide, looking doubtfully at Kristin's receding figure.

Kris strode back to her Pad, ignoring Johnny's questions. Hurriedly, she pulled her shirt up, exposing her stomach, and held the shirttail in her teeth. Johnny exclaimed something that sounded like "oh dear," and turned around.

She wrapped the sheath strap around her waist. It was wide and comfortable, perfect for that spot around her torso. In a minute, she was done, the sheath attached at her side. She pulled the knife out and sat down on the Pad again.

"Okay, I can go now," she said tersely. Johnny looked doubtful. "Just do it, okay, before Maurice gets back.!" Johnny shook his head but did so, attaching the wires again and punching all the right buttons. Kris didn't resist the pull this time, letting go just as Maurice appeared in her line of vision again. She fell immediately back into Greece and Achilles' arms.

But this time, she came prepared. His arm was still around her waist, holding her tightly, but she kicked again, as hard as she could, bringing her foot up into his stomach. With a slight groan from Achilles, she shoved with all her strength and slipped free of his arms. Kristin turned around immediately, holding the knife up so he could see it, then to her own throat.

"There are different ways of dying," she said violently, "than drowning. And a lot easier. I may be your captive, I may be your tool, but I am never your slave," she said vehemently, pressing the knife to her throat to show him that she meant business. A single drop of blood dripped from a tiny slice in her skin; it mixed with the saltwater dripping down her neck and slid into the water. Achilles was silent and did not move.


	4. Broccoli with Cheese

Achilles nodded. He reached forward and gently tugged her hand away from her throat, sliding his fingers up her wrist toward the handle.

"I keep the knife," Kris said quietly, pulling back and sliding the blade into the small sheath. Her shirt drifted up in the water as she secured the knife again. The weight on her side was surprisingly reassuring; Kris tugged her shirt down and tucked the hem into her belt.

"You may keep it for now," Achilles said quietly, almost threateningly. "But if you try to take your life again, or any one's else, it's mine." For a moment, he looked Kristin right in the eye, his face entirely serious. Then he smiled and laughed.

"I feel the same about being a slave," he said. "Although this is the first time I have imagined it." Kris turned and swam toward the ship again. _Of course not. You've never had reason to._

"If in doubt when speaking, think about how you would feel," she said as Achilles swam up beside her. "Usually you can tell from that."

"So you've met Odysseus," Achilles pondered as they swam. A picture of a memory slid into Kristin's head. A tall man with black curly hair, a kind face, a sword. He put her on the ship in the first place.

"I guess," she said. "Nice guy, sort of." She thought back again. "I probably would have liked him more if he hadn't taken me prisoner in the first place." Achilles glanced at her before focusing on the ship again. _Language_, Kris reminded herself.

"So you _are _meant to be in Troy. Gods blessed the minute we caught sight of you." Achilles said. He was taunting her, but Kris refused to take the bait. He only needed one reason to put her under stricter bonds.

"Why are you fighting for Menelaus? Were you there when the rest took the oath? You have to have been too young for Helen," Kris said loudly, breaking the small bit of tension to pieces. She felt like she was babbling, but words needed to be spoken.

"No, I was not part of that assembly. I was just a boy when the rest were off making fools of themselves over the child Helen." Achilles laughed. They were nearing the ship again; Patroclus leaned over the railing, watching intently.

"Then why have you joined this war? Surely who Helen sleeps with is no problem of yours." Achilles shook his head.

"This dispute is not over Helen; she is just the excuse. If she returned to Menelaus right now, bowing on her face and crying in remorse, this war would still not be called off," he told her. "This is the excuse that Agamemnon has been waiting for for years. He will have this war, no matter what happens now."

"Because of the location? The shipping straights, right?"

"Yes," Achilles said slowly, glancing at Kristin again. "Agamemnon wants Priam to pay him a tax for every ship that passes through our seas. He believes it is the right of his regency," Achilles continued, a hint of scorn in his voice. "But Priam will never do so, and thus, Agamemnon wants war with him." As they reached the side of the ship, Achilles placed a hand on Kristin's shoulder.

"And so it is over land that all the lives will be lost," Kris said thoughtfully. "Not so important as you may think." Achilles shook his head impatiently.

"It is a matter of honor. Agamemnon thinks Priam, indeed, all of Troy, has insulted him by denying his power. He will avenge the insult, at great cost of blood I think."

A rope splashed down in the water in front of him; Achilles picked it up, handing it to Kristin. She scowled, but took it, hefting the weight in her hands for a moment before pulling herself out of the water. She braced her feet against the wood and climbed -- she was used to the idea by then. Patroclus roughly helped her over the railing when she reached the top; he kept his hands on her shoulders, gripping tightly till Achilles climbed over the rail. The last straight light of the sun shone across the ship and its occupants. Then the sun went under the sea, coloring the horizon gold brighter than that in any temple.

"Let her go," Achilles said quietly. The crew scattered over the deck, ignoring the scene. Better not to procure the wrath of Achilles.

Patroclus released Kristin's shoulders hesitantly, as if afraid she was going to dive overboard again. He relaxed when she just stood there dripping and rubbing her arms. Even with the sun set, the air was warm; but the breeze was still blowing, cold against her wet skin.

Achilles laid his hand on her shoulder and guided Kris towards his cabin. She stopped outside the door; he looked at her for a second before entering, the curtain swaying in his wake. A moment later, he emerged, carrying a dark robe made of thick cloth. He put the robe in Kristin's arms and waited for her to pull it over her wet clothes.

"Honor is more important than lives to you Southern warriors," she commented. "Why is that so?"

"It is how it has always been. Without honor, a man is nothing," Achilles said, his frustration barely contained. Kris sighed, feeling tired.

"If you say so," she said quietly. It got quiet on the ship. What was one supposed to talk about when they were held captive on a lone ship full of warriors?

Achilles was looking at her oddly again. Kris pulled the robe closer and walked over to the place where her knives lay on a bale of canvass. The metal was dry, as was the leather coating of the sheaths. Kris picked up the sheath and the first knife, the Defend Good blade. She examined the runes closely for a second before stowing the knife inside the sheath again. The sound of metal on metal seemed to shake Achilles out of a reverie; he walked over to where Kris stood and picked up the second knife.

"What do these say?" he asked, running a finger over the runes. For a moment, Kris wondered if she should tell the truth -- but what harm was there in the truth?

"Take them up when the time is right, never unneeded," she told him. She left the second part off; it seemed like a blessing from Kirifna to her.

"And the other?" he asked.

"Um, 'Take these up for the defense of all good'," Kristin said after a moment of thinking. It wouldn't be wise to mention Kirifna, Princess of the West, here.

"Where are they from? I've never seen such workmanship." Achilles ran a finger over the inscribed runes. Another memory surfaced, this one probably from Johnny since it included the blades. A somber ceremony including lots of "I shall's" and a few "I shall not's". But at the same time, another memory rose up, a memory of _a dark weapons room full of shining metal and angry tongues of fire_. .

"My father gave them to me on my tenth birthday," Kris said, trying to figure out which memory she was quoting. Maybe both. "They are my only weapons until I reach twenty. Well, they were supposed to be. It is the tradition in my land. But war came, and I was trained with every weapon." Kris spoke hesitantly, for the words that popped into her mind periodically, the fake memories, seemed to be at war with small bits of something else invading her mind. Achilles looked at her questioningly, eyebrows raised.

"Bow, knife, sword," Kris continued. "I can use them all, tolerably well. But the knives," she stopped, unsure of what word to use.

"The knives are your first weapon," Achilles said, handing the blade back to Kris. She took it, nodding, and thrust it inside the sheath. "I suppose we need to find a place to keep you for now," Achilles said thoughtfully. "Below-deck won't do."

"Um, no I'd rather stay on deck," Kris answered, wishing she didn't feel intimidated by him. "Is that all right?"

"No, it's not," he said, "but I don't see any other place for you - unless you'd rather share my cabin." Kris hook her head; her reaction was swift, making Achilles raise his eyebrows.

"No, I'd rather stay on deck. You let me have some of that canvass, and I can come up with a rain shelter," Kris told him convincingly. "You said we reach port tomorrow?"

"Yes, in Meliboea," Achilles told her. "It is our last stop before we sail for Troy. We get final provisions there, and we can look for clothing for you." He stopped for a moment, then asked, "Is your land at war often, then? Are you trained in other war arts?"

"Yes," Kris explained, happy to be on a safe subject, "we have been at war for a long time." She let the memories take over, not trying to discern between the two any more; it was like telling a story to a person while you watch it on a big screen, but half the screen was different from the other half. Narrating switched between the two. "I've been trained in…everything, practically. Death has always been near, my whole life. We try to prevent it with our defense."

Another picture came into her head, this one strong and vivid, of _Northern forests, fire burning through the trees. A tall man, broad shouldered with a sword in his hand, stood silhouetted against the smoke covered light, motioning for Kristin to follow him. Something darted out of the trees; a black panther, wounded and bloody, but still moving, sprang to his side. A cry rang out through the woods; fire came closer, but still he waited, his hand outstretched. A sharp pain flew through Kristin's head as an arrow flew from the woods, striking the man in the shoulder. _

"Kristin?" Achilles asked, voice questioning, as Kris closed her eyes against the sudden headache. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Kris said quietly. After a moment, the pain faded, and Kris opened her eyes again, the picture of the tall man, arrow in his shoulder, still in her eyelids. There was something familiar about the man, and the cat, but she couldn't pull it out of the memories.

With a sigh, Kris shook her head, scowling. Either Mark had tried something new with his programming, or she was going crazy.

"It's nothing," she told Achilles. "Just a headache."

"Do you need rest?" he asked.

"Not now," she said. "Maybe you could show me the ship."

"Perhaps," Achilles said, looking around at the men on deck. Most were playing lots or talking of home; a few watched Achilles and Kristin. They looked down when they saw their leader's attention on them. Achilles shrugged his broad shoulders. "This way," he said, turning towards the ladder that lead below. Kris followed him down. The smell below was terrible - unwashed bodies, all that filth from three weeks of closeness. Kris fought the gag reflex and followed Achilles toward the back. A few men stood in surprise at the sight of their captain, but most ignored the two walking down the length of the room.

"This is our carpentry area," he stated. Scraps of wood filled wood boxes that were stacked against the wall. Saws and hammers were in another box; a pile of planks leaned against the dark wall of the ship. Kris stepped forward and examined the wood in the boxes. She pulled out a piece of dark, light wood; it felt familiar, but she didn't know why.

"What was this from?" she asked, standing up. "Too light for the ship," she continued. "Not strong enough for spears." She looked back at Achilles to see a man standing behind him, his face shadowed. He stepped forward and nodded at Achilles.

"Just right for this, though," he said, holding out a square of wood. Kris took it and examined the carving for a moment. Faint figures were carved into it, little people. It was too dark to see clearly what was in the wood, but Kris could clearly make put the shape of a tall building…a tall building that was definitely not Greek.

She looked up at the man.

"Where did you get this?" she asked. Her tone of voice was stern, if not a little angry.

"It was left behind by a deserter," the sailor said. "He was rescued off the sea, as you were. He disappeared months ago." The sailor looked towards Achilles. "He enjoyed carving scenes like this."

"What was his name?" Kristin asked.

"he called himself Dwain," the man replied.

"What's this about?" Achilles asked, his hand resting on Kristin's shoulder again. She ignored him.

"Did he leave behind any plans? Did he tell anyone where he was going?"

"Nay. He was a quiet man who rarely spoke to anyone. I know only that he was foreign."

"Have you met this man?" Achilles asked, this time louder. Kris looked over at him.

"No," she said. "But I know his brother. I was sent to-".

Another image cut through her head, this one completely different from the other. _A dark interior inside a tent, fancy tapestries hanging from the ceiling, blocking the still figure behind them. Far away, battle cries could be heard. But inside, silence reigned. _Orders are, you're supposed to find this one_, a shrill, sinister voice said, sending chills up Kristin's back even though the tent was hot and full of the sick smell of incense. _He's of no use to me; remember, disobey, and you'll get what Conrad got. Remember_, the voice said, a female's voice, _I want results_. The air inside grew hotter and heavier. Kris felt her breath coming shallower. She tried to stand, but her knees staid bent. _Bring him back, or maybe I'll tell your father what you've been in to_, the voice said cruelly, laughing, a cackle that raised the hair on the back of her neck. _Yes, the daughter of Carbrian is caught with the witch_, the voice said, the laughter raising another level. Kris knelt forward again, her arms over her head, the battle cries growing louder. _Go! _The witch commanded, and Kris ran, leaving the tent behind, ran into the bright sun and cool northern air, ran into the sky and the wind. _

Kris jumped as a hand came down on her shoulder, the thud jarring through her body. She opened her eyes that she never remembered closing, looking into the eyes of Achilles. He was staring into her face, blue eyes questioning. Kris looked from him to the sailor, then back to Achilles. Her eyes clouded over, darkness seeping in on the sides. She swayed forward a little bit, closing her eyes at the sudden pain through her head.

Achilles grabbed her other shoulder to keep her from falling.

"When is the last time you slept?" Achilles asked Kris as she leaned back against the wall.

"Uh," Kris said, mentally counting on her fingers, "probably…oh, ten or eleven hours. That's about right, I guess." She took a deep breath and did not open her eyes till the unnatural darkness had leaked out. Who was Conrad? Who's voice had it been that gave her orders? Even though she searched her brain, no other memories surfaced. Kris stood up straight, unwilling to show weakness again.

_I've known worse. I've been in more danger. I can handle this_.

"She should go above deck," the sailor said.

"I think so as well," Achilles agreed. "Fresh air would be better than this stench."

Kris instantly felt better when she got back up on deck. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the rail again, looking over the edge at the water. Achilles followed, holding tightly to her arm. Kristin glanced back at him.

"You are not going near the railing without me again," he stated. "I don't trust you." Kris shook his hand off.

"I said I wouldn't jump again," she said, "and I won't." They stood in silence for a while, looking at the water. No doubt Achilles was bored, but he didn't let it show. He was good at being emotionless. A blank face was his best face.

After enough time had passed to let the sky grow dark blue, Achilles took her arm and lead her towards the cabin. Kris stopped at the door.

"Sleep in there tonight," Achilles said. "I will stay _here_," he continued, accenting 'here', "the whole time you sleep." He pulled a crate over beside the door. "For both your protection and my own reasons. I want you to sleep," he said. "This is only for tonight," he added.

Kris yawned again. "I'm really not that tired," she said.

"Well, your body is," he stated. Kris looked down and turned to go. She didn't want him seeing her mistrust. He saw anyways.

"Go to sleep," Achilles said, sitting down on the crate and closing his eyes. "I promise you, no one will pass me."

"Do you want anything from the room?" Kris asked. "A blanket, or…" he looked at her, amused, and shook his head.

"Just give me your robe," he requested. Kris pulled it off her shoulders and handed it to him, making sure their hands didn't touch. She'd had enough of being touched for that day.

Bone-close exhaustion inundated her body when Kris finally got the courage to lay down on the cot. The mental effect of having almost died wasn't as apparent as the physical effect. Kris took a deep breath and thought about what had happened that day.

She had been with Mary that morning.. Mary was Kristin's only friend who knew about her travels because she was the only friend Kristin had known would believe. They had been raised together in the same foster home for three years, with Mark, until Mary's mom got out of prison. After a few months, Kristin's dad got out, and Mark and Kris went to live with him.

Mary and Kris had stayed close; most of her mornings were spent with Mary, walking through the park or hanging at each other's house. That morning they had been to the pond, sat around doing math homework, and talking about Judith.

Judith was Kristin's father's latest conquest - a short blonde with gray eyes who's only concerns were her manicure, pedicure, figure and hair. And clothes. She was shallow and Kris couldn't stand the woman. Kris couldn't stand most of the women that her father dated.

The morning had been good. Then Kris had been called home at 12, like she always was. It was the unspoken agreement with her father - mornings with Mary, rest of the day at home. That day, Mark came out of his room for the first time in a week. He dragged Kris into her room the minute she came through the front door.

Kris shook her head and took another deep breath. Next time, she would fight longer against Mark. She was tired of going wherever he wanted, all the things that he couldn't do himself.

Opening her eyes again, Kris noticed that all the light was gone now except for the faint glare from the fire. The curtain was lit up; it looked orange in the fire light. Kris remembered her knives outside on the bale of canvass and stood, thinking to get them in case of rain or storm.

She pushed the curtain aside quietly, glancing over at Achilles; he didn't look up, but Kris knew he was aware of her. For a moment, she felt the need to explain herself, but she ignored it and stepped out, taking a step towards the bale where the knives lay. She could see Achilles tense, readying himself to move at a moment's notice.

Kristin quickly walked over to the bale, pulling the sheaths off the flat surface. She ignored the stares from the men sitting around the fire and turned to walk back through the curtain. She almost walked into Achilles. He had stood and followed her, no more than a foot behind her. Obviously, her promise meant nothing to him.

Kris pushed past him and walked back towards the cabin. No one on deck spoke, but their eyes followed her figure until she disappeared behind the curtain again. Achilles walked over to the fire, speaking quietly with a few of the men.

"What do you think?" he asked Patroclus, kneeling down beside him. The moon was starting to rise on the horizon; a faint light above the water. Patroclus shook his head.

"I don't know," he said. "It is obvious she is of the gods. Her bearing tells us that." The other men agreed. So far, she had shown no fear. No fear around Achilles? She was either stupid or of the gods. "But," he said, looking across the flames without seeing, "I do not wish to know what is going to happen in this war. Aren't seers better left alone?" he asked, questioningly searching for Achilles' eyes.

"No. Who ever has been teaching you, cousin, is sorely in need of lessons himself," Achilles said, laughing. The men around the fire joined him for a moment, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Patroclus' face turned slightly red; he looked down. Achilles noticed and stopped his laughter. Patroclus was more sensitive than the other warriors on the ship. He specialized in healing more than fighting; the gods had blessed him with the skill to heal where Achilles had been given the skill to destroy. Often they debated this way pf putting it, but this was Achilles' firm opinion.

"No, the girl will live to do service for Greece," he said, unaware that "the girl" was listening, her ear right against the curtain. "She can help us keep this war short and easy. Even if she will not comply."

"She will be useful to the generals," Cleon said loudly. "Someone who can tell the future, not just equivocate in order to confuse. We could learn truth from her."

"Yes," Achilles agreed. "If she can see the future, than we can avoid ambushes, save men's lives." Patroclus looked up at his words.

"Then why don't you ask her now?" he challenged, voice steady. "If she has the power to see the future, then ask her something tonight, ask her about something that will happen soon."

Silence fell over the group around the fire.

Achilles stood up abruptly and walked toward the curtain, stopping about ten feet away from the door. He glanced back at Patroclus and waited. Patroclus stood up and walked to the door with him. They entered, the younger man first, followed by his cousin.

When they came through the door, Kris was on the bed, sitting cross legged against the wall, no sign of her ever moving. Her eyes open, she stared at the opposite wall, determined to remain silent. _The future isn't meant to be known_.

Achilles stood in front of her, blocking her line of vision. She moved her eyes to the other wall, avoiding his gaze, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"The future is not meant to be known," she said, voice devoid of emotion. "Anyways, I don't know anything to tell you." Suddenly, Kris was reminded of _the Northern mages, their curses ringing through the battle air, around the clashes of swords and twangs of bows…_

"It is no curse," Achilles said loudly, breaking Kris out of her memory and pulling her eyes upwards. "Why would you have been thrown in our path if your talent was a curse? You are here for a reason - the gods have sent you into my path."

"Then the gods have got it in for the Greek army." Kris said, forcing her eyes back down till she was looking at the wall again. Something about Achilles drew her eyes.

" Tell me," Patrocles said before Achilles could, "why did the gods curse you?" Kris inwardly sighed. This was going to be a hard story to keep up.

"Good grief," she said snapped. "I wasn't cursed by the gods. I have seen this story. I've read this story. I know the tiniest bit about this story. I can not see the future." She spoke louder, not caring who heard. "I am not a seer, and I will not tell you anything about the war you are headed for." In a sudden insight, Kris realized that, ten years from now, both of these men would be dead. The thought was sudden; it fell like a knife and left her feeling sick.

Achilles never took his eyes off her.

"How did you…see our story?" Patroclus asked confusedly, leaning up against the wall. He was frowning as well. Kris sighed, but knew she could not tell the truth.

"I have been shown this story in different times during my life," she said. This much was truth, but Kris was confusing herself and them, she knew. "You don't need to know anymore," she said quietly.

"I won't leave until you tell me something about this war," Achilles said, voice serious. He locked his eyes with Kris. For a moment, they ignored Patroclus, and Kris sighed.

"It's going to be hard," she said, willing to use generic terms. "You won't have a problem taking over the beach. That much is simple. But Troy has many allies, and they aren't going to sit back while the city is under siege." Kris stopped, thinking that was enough. But Achilles waved his hand.

"Continue."

"Your ship lands first, the beach is taken easily," Kris said, frustrated at her helplessness. "You will get gold, plunder, blah, blah, whatever it is you're fighting for." Patroclus wouldn't look up, but Achilles wouldn't take his eyes off her.

"You will win your first battle," Kris said, clearly enunciating each word. "I will not say more. I told you something. Now leave, please, because my memory is tired and I need rest." She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and ignoring the two men, her arms still crossed over her chest defiantly. Neither man moved for a minute, then Patroclus spoke again.

"You say we win the beach?" he asked, disbelief in his voice. "On the first day?"

"Yes," Kris said clearly, her eyes still shut tightly. "It will take only hours." Another memory surfaced, this one a building of stone, huge, towering to the sky. Kris winced, and forced her eyes open, but the image of the tower danced before her eyes for a moment before disappearing. A voice in her head, saying, _She will be back within the hour_, drifted through her head as she blinked, the memory going black as she saw the real world again.

These non-Center memories were driving her insane. They filled her head when she closed her eyes, triggered by small words or sights. And when she tried to think about base, Mark, Mary, it was hard to focus on them. Something was wrong.

Patroclus stood and walked to the door, stopping at the curtain. He turned back to Achilles.

"She's spoken," he urged. "Leave her." There was a small degree of pleading in his voice, something that pulled at Achilles' conscience. But he ignored it for the moment, pushing the small amount of guilt back.

"In a moment," he said, searching for the girl's eyes with his own. "I find need of words with the girl." Patroclus looked on for a moment and left, shaking his head as he walked out on deck. Kris ignored Achilles, determined to keep her eyes on the wall. The wood was rough, not too thick, built only for sun and rain protection. A curious pattern marred the logs, obviously from the wood the wall was built of-

Achilles reached down and pulled her head up, his hand on her chin. Unwillingly, she met his eyes. For a minute, his blue stared right into her green; Kris found her breathing was speeding up again. His gaze was deep, searching, and serious. Kristin felt that is she didn't laugh or cuss him out, she'd fall into some sort of spell under his eyes. _Do something to make this not so serious. Do something_.

Kris looked away, staring at the wall again, refusing to let anything else about the war out. He reminded her of someone. No, he didn't look like Brad Pitt did in the movie Troy -- less selfish, pretty boy, more trained killer; the reminder was like a distant memory, the ones that you had when you were a baby, and the only thing you have left is a picture in your head. A distant stirring in her mind that came when she looked closely at him, like something that refused to come to the light, but stayed just under the surface, impossible to entirely remember.

Achilles let go of her chin, his hand falling back to his side.

"What is it that you are denying me?" he asked lightly. "I can see that there are deep troubles just beneath your eyes, but still you speak not." Kris said nothing, just kept her eyes on the wall across from him. She wished she was back on Mars. She wished she was _anywhere _else.

"You know of my death, don't you?" he asked quietly. Kris grimaced slightly, glancing up at him for a moment before looking back at the wall.

"You were told that you had a choice," she said, breaking her silence. "You could stay away from this conflict and live long, have many children, be loved by them, but die without glory. Or you could go off to be a hero with the men and…die." Kris was silent for a moment, reflecting back on the _Iliad_. "You know that you will die if you enter this war." She looked up, meeting his eyes again for a moment, then returning them to the wall. His gaze was too much for her to hold for long.

"Yes, I know I will die," Achilles admitted. The sound of outside noises slowly fluttered in during the silence that followed. Low talk by the fire, waves on the sides of the ship. The crackle of flames. The creak of beams, the billow of the sail. Moonlight as well as firelight came through the door now, adding a degree of brightness to the light in the room.

"But your honor and glory is more important," Kris said sarcastically. "I mean, everyone will die, no matter what. What does it matter whether it is today or ten years from today?" Achilles didn't speak, but turned around, to walk out of the room again. He stopped by the door and looked back for a moment.

"I don't fear my death," he said, voice strong, "but I do desire to know what will happen in the years of battle, if what you say is true. We will speak of this again." He pulled the curtain aside and stepped out of the room. A brief beam of light came in when the curtain was opened - white moonlight, a bright patch on the opposite wall. For a second, Kristin could see clearly around the room again, then the curtain was shut, blocking the beam, but still allowing light to filter through, dimly. Light. That was all that mattered. Examine the light and nothing else would be real. Examine the light and her world would be safe.

Kris sighed heavily, closing her eyes again and leaning against the wall, exhausted. The day was catching up fast. The noises outside began to fade away as Kris rested, trying to stay awake, but not sure she was succeeding. A few times she opened her eyes a few seconds before she fell asleep, barely aware of anything but the fact that when she fell closer to sleep, more crazy memories started coming in.

She closed her eyes again, unable to keep them open. A picture began forming behind her eyes: _the same tower she had seen earlier. A large group of men were standing in front of the gate, a few woman as well, all dressed for battle, holding swords and bows, knives like the ones Kris carried, and spears. A few men carried battle axes. _

_Horses stood by the gate, lined up patiently. No one held the reins, but they stood, as if waiting for the same thing the humans were. "Keep to the coast," a voice said. It was commanding, a voice that she recognized. Kris turned towards the speaker. _

_The man she had seen before, in the forest, when the fire was burning, stood beside a huge black horse, a bow on his back and a sword at his side. His hand rested on the sword; the horse leaned against him affectionately. "Stay away from the cliffs," the man continued, "and don't let anyone see you. I don't care if they are allies - no one sees you. Understood?" _

_Most of the men standing around nodded; tightening straps or pulling bows over their heads with grim expressions on their faces, they looked rough. Kris herself nodded, reaching up to tie the knives in place. Her hand brushed against the unstrung bow on her shoulder; she murmured a word over the sheaths so that no force but her hand could pull them from their carriers as she walked over to her horse. The tall, buckskin mare named Lightfoot nudged her softly, nipping the hood of her cloak. Kris raised her hand to his forelock, scratching him between the eyes. _

_"You'll stay with me," Tristan said, coming up behind her. Kris turned; he stood behind her, holding the reins of Felix with his panther at his side. "Your father requested it," he said when she frowned. Still frowning, Kris knelt down and scratched the cat behind the ears. He rubbed his head against her hands, purring deeply, and licked her hand. The animal was abnormally affectionate for a cat. _

_"I'll ride with you then," Kris said, "but don't keep me away from searching." She stood, turning to lead Lightfoot toward the road, but Tristan grabbed her arm tightly. _

_"I'll stop you if it's dangerous," he said, his grip on her arm iron. "Your care rests with me. You shouldn't even be on this mission." _

_Kris shook his hand off, or attempted to. He held on for another moment, then let go. But still her glared at her. _

_"I am not a child," Kristin protested. Lightfoot laid her head on Kris's shoulder, giving her silent support. "If you insist," she added quickly at his look, "I will stay with you. But, I refuse to do nothing but ride. I will still search, even if you say no." _

_"I insist," he said again. Kris looked up at his voice, her green eyes meeting Tristan's blue. "Stay close," he cautioned again. "There's some in this company that would betray you for a winter's worth of food." _

_"I agree," Conrad said, coming to stand by Tristan. He let go of her arm quickly, turning to look at the younger man. Conrad's white eyes looked back at him, then turned to Kristin. "And you," he said, placing both hands on he shoulders, "be careful out there." His sightless eyes clouded over with gray, like they always did when he was worried. _

_ "Brother, you worry too much," Kris laughed, placing her hands on top of his. He smiled softly. "I will look just as hard, since you are missing from our company. We will find the one who did this, and when we do…" _

_"No", Conrad said, gripping her shoulders with a strength that didn't show in his pale face. "You will find her, and bring her here. You…you can't kill her. You can't hurt her." _

_"We won't," Tristan reassured him, meeting Kristin's eyes. She blushed slightly but agreed with him by nodding, even though Conrad couldn't see._

_"No harm will come to her," Kris promised. "It was an accident. The only one who will be punished is the witch-" _

_"We must leave now," Tristan interrupted. Men had mounted their horses and were riding down the road, toward the cliffs. Kris steered Conrad back toward the wall, where Nancy waited for him. She slid her arm around his shoulder, hugging him to her side. Kris looked into her face. _

_"Watch him like a hawk," she warned. Conrad laughed, wrapping his arm around Nancy. He dwarfed her by almost a foot and a half. "We'll be back as soon as we can," Kris continued. Nancy nodded. What a pair they were - the one blind, the other without speech. _

_"Be careful, sister," Conrad warned, his smile dimming. "She can do such things of power-" _

_"I know. But so can I. Even if you all still consider me to be a child, I can fight her. And I will not let her get away with this." Straightening up, Kris raised her voice a little. "She will learn to keep her hands away from our lives." _

_"Kris, you haven't the training," Conrad warned. "Bind her, but do no battle. She will-" _

_"Kristin!" Tristan yelled. "We must leave!" _

_"I won't battle," she promised Conrad quickly, fingers crossed behind her back. "Brother, but the witch will pay." She turned to walk away, back towards Tristan. "Even if I must become my own sort of witch to do it," she murmured quietly under her breath. _

_Kris mounted Lightfoot, urging her forward to where Tristan was sitting, astride Felix. For a minute, they stood, looking down the hill towards the sea, then Tristan turned to her. _

_"I agree with what he told you," he said softly. "It is better to bring her back, bound, for our other mages to deal with." Tristan reached over the space between them and placed his hand on her cheek, pulling her face forward to look at him. "I will not have you lost again." _

_Kris shivered slightly, a combination of his hand on her cheek and the memory of the last time she had met the witch. She closed her eyes, fighting back the fear that rose in her chest, like a choking liquid, dark and cold, that spread through-out her lungs. She took a deep breath, pushing the feeling down. Lightfoot tensed, feeling his rider's apprehensions. _

_Tristan caressed her cheek for a moment, his rough fingers cold against her skin. Don't worry, he said silently, mind speaking. Stay close, and stay calm. His fingers moved to her chin; he turned her face towards his again. The edges of her vision began to blur, darkness seeping in through the clouds. We will find her, Tristan said as he disappeared into the mist. We will find her. _

The touch on her chin remained. Kris sighed lightly, turning her head to the other side to look for Tristan. He had gone into the fog, and she couldn't see him anywhere.

She opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the wood above her head. The feel of skin moved to her cheek again and she turned her head, aware that she wasn't home in the North anymore. A face looked down on her -- one she recognized.

With a jolt, Kristin woke, sitting straight up from the cot. She took a deep breath, trying to discern between three worlds for a moment, before her reality broke through, and she remembered. She pushed Achilles' hand away, without much energy, as questions formed in her mind.

What had been going on in her dream? Kris had been completely convinced it was real. Never, ever had any memories been so vivid. She had been in that world, in the world that only memories existed of. There was no Conrad, no Tristan, no Nancy, no mysterious witch that installed terror in her heart…was there?

"Why are you in here?" Kris asked, her voice soft. She was confused. She looked up at Achilles; the moonlight in the room was bright enough to see by. He looked down at here, hands at his sides.

"What were you dreaming?" he asked in return, voice low, but clear. She stared up at him, tempted to mouth off. But she just shook her head and frowned.

"Nothing," she lied. "And I asked first."

"You were restless," he said, as if it explained everything. "You were dreaming."

"No, I wasn't," Kris snapped, turning around till she was leaning against the wall again, as far away from him as she could get. "I was not dreaming, and I do not need any help." She glared up at him, eyes angry.

He said nothing and turned around as if to leave. He did not leave, though. Instead, he turned around again and sat down on the cot. It creaked considerably under the added weight, but he didn't move.

"Lying won't do anyone any good, though you're entitled to it," he said, fixing his eyes on her face again. Kris ignored him, her eyes, once again, fixed on the opposite wall. She was going to know that wall well by the time she was allowed to leave. "Of course, it would make everyone's life easier if you just told me the truth."

Kris said nothing. The memories in her head were too much - - she was having trouble remembering what was real. What _was _real? Was any of it real? Slowly, little pieces came back to her -- the weight of Mark sitting on her chest. The disdain from Hall that day. The worry in Johnny's old face when he saw her, dripping, on the pad. Maurice. Macy. Mary. And this guy.

She glanced over at Achilles; he was looking at her, eyes full of some foreign emotion. Quickly she looked away, afraid that something would slip out. He had a way of pulling out things that were supposed to stay hidden. It could from a major problem here.

Sighing, Achilles moved around so he was sitting beside her, leaning against the wall. Kris refrained from moving, even though his side was close to hers, and she could feel warmth transferring through their sides. He said nothing.

Kris tried to stay awake, really tried. But it was late, and she was so tired, and the rock of the ship was like a lullaby, some wicked combination of Poseidon and Morpheus. A few times, she jerked her eyes open just in time before falling into sleep, but when she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, she sunk under, her head dropping onto Achilles' shoulder.

He smiled and looked down when her he felt the weight of her head on his shoulder. She was dead asleep, back in the land of dreams. For some odd reason, Achilles felt as if he cared for this girl. It wasn't that she was beautiful. There was nothing ugly about her, she just didn't stand out for looks, unless you counted the rebellion that was so obvious in her eyes. At the worst, some would call her plain. Achilles thought for a moment -- he would call her more unusual than anything else. She had a well defined face, high-cheek bones and thick eyebrows. Her hair was thick and course and very dark. He pulled his fingers through it experimentally; it would be beautiful if she let it grow. Her eyes though, that was the unusual part. Most would say that no one but a goddess could have eyes that vividly green. It was obvious Kristin was no goddess, or so Achilles thought, but her eyes were the brightest he had ever seen anyone's eyes. Unnaturally so…but the girl was unnatural. No doubt about that. She was about as natural as…fish in a desert.

There's no doubt about it, Achilles thought as he settled in next to her, crossing his arms over his chest. This girl was hiding something that was bigger than she let on. And Achilles was going to find out what she hid.


	5. SCREWED, Part One

_This is a much shorter update: it seemed like a good stopping point; I also have to get off this computers. A curse on all shared computers! _

_to anyone who is reading - please, give me any advice you have. I feel like the plot is somewhat weak; share whatever ideas you've got. _

_Thanks!_

_A Lady in the Golden Wood_

-1Kristin woke slowly, wondering where she was. A small hint of dawn colored the room enough for her to see her surroundings. For a moment, she had absolutely no recollection of where she was. As she felt her head rising and falling steadily, with someone's breathing, she remembered. She turned her head and looked straight into the sleeping face of Achilles, his eyes closed, mouth slightly open, breath coming out steadily. For a moment, she was unsure of what to do -- if she moved to much, it would wake him. She wasn't ready for him to be awake.

His chin was resting against his chest, robe open. He sighed in his sleep, and his head tilted back against the wall after a moment. Carefully, Kris eased her head upright. She had a crick in her neck, and her left foot was dead asleep. Kris mentally cursed whatever madness that caused her to fall asleep in such a stupid position.

She sat up, straightening her back against the wall. The pain didn't ease much. Again, Kris mentally cursed herself before sliding off the cot. It creaked a little as she stood, but Achilles slept on, never opening his eyes.

Kris stretched leisurely, her arms over her head, then to the side. The pain in her neck mellowed as she walked over to the curtain and pushed it aside. A surge of cool morning air flowed in, raising goose bumps on Kristin's arms as she walked out into the early morning.

The deck was almost completely empty. The fire from the night before was dead in the grate, a bunch of blackened coals. Two men slept on mats beside the grate, sprawled out and covered by robes. She assumed they were night watchmen. The sun wasn't up yet, but the horizon was pink, the almost full moon sitting on the very edge of the Western horizon.

Kris walked over to the railing, rubbing her arms under the thin shirt. It wasn't cold, just chilly from the long night. It was early spring in Greece; nights were bound to be chilly. There was nothing in sight anywhere on the sea. The water was dark; small waves beat against the ship. The sail was still billowing out above her, catching the small sea breeze. Kristin reached up and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind one ear, and yawned.

There was nothing to see on the open water except for small waves. But there was no where else to go, and Kris found she didn't mind the monotony of the view. The view and sounds made were soothing.

Kris leaned against the rail, closing her eyes and yawning again. She was still tired, but not enough to go back to sleep. No one stirred below deck, and the men by the grate slept on. Kristin leaned against the rail, resting in the silence. The only sound was the waves on the sides of the ship.

Kris heard someone come stand beside her. She ignored the person for a moment, keeping her eyes closed. . She only opened her eyes when she heard him yawn. Like she had expected, it was Achilles. He was looking out across the ocean, his robe open in the front, his hair tucked behind both ears.

"We port in Meliboea sometime today," he said, not looking at her. "Probably before noon." Kris nodded, but didn't still did not speak. "Once there, we can get you anything you need for the journey to Troy. We'll be sailing for ten days after that." Again, Kris nodded.

"What will I need to get?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Achilles said, laughing. He looked over at Kristin, blue eyes shining. "I don't know what a woman needs for a journey like this." Kris sighed.

"I mean from a warriors point of view -- oh never, mind." Kris remembered Johnny saying he had a pack ready for her. She would just try to pick it up when she got there; that would be stress relieving. She leaned against the rail, elbows resting on the wood. Kris would have preferred to not say anything about the night before, but Achilles spoke up.

"Will you tell me what you dreamed?" he asked softly, his voice almost kind.

"No," Kris said. It didn't matter how kind his voice sounded. She wasn't sharing that…dream. "It's not something you need to know. It's something about my own life. It's mine."

"Fair enough," Achilles answered, stretching his arms over his head. Kris glanced over, but looked away hurriedly. She would have loved to study his muscles from a distance, but he was too close at the moment.

He noticed and smiled again. Tightlipped, Kris shook her head.

"What do we do until we get to port?" she asked to break the silence. "Or, what do I do?" Achilles shrugged. Frustrated, Kris sighed. It _wasn't _fair. She shouldn't have to be here.

The men beside the fire-grate had finally woken upon hearing the voices; they stood at the sight of their captain. Achilles walked over to talk with them, leaving Kristin to fend for herself.

After a while, men began coming up from below deck. Patroclus showed up in a few minutes and walked to the railing beside Kristin.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully. Kris looked at him. He winced. "I see you slept as wonderfully as I thought you would," he added.

"Speak for yourself," Kris muttered.

"I was told that you showed interest in the sailor named Dwain," Patroclus said slowly. Kris nodded curtly. _If you have something to say, please, just say it_. Patroclus looked down and lowered his voice.

"The man was crazy," he muttered. "Not entirely unusual around these parts, but he was different than the rest." Patroclus looked around for a moment before continuing. "Before he left, he gave me instructions, as he called them."

"What?" Kristin asked.

"He told me that someone would follow him. He said that someone would ask about him."

"Yeah?" _Get to the point_.

"That someone was to be given this," Patroclus finished, slipping a worn, rolled-up, piece of parchment out of his robe. He slipped it into Kristin's outstretched hand; the time for modesty gone, Kris stuck the paper in her bra. _Achilles is not getting his hands on this_. Patroclus looked down. "That's not necessary," he said. "The writing is of a language that no one can decipher." Kristin looked at him closely, then glanced in Achilles direction.

"He already knows," Patroclus said, nodding. _Damn it_. Kris wasted no time in pulling the parchment out and carefully rolling it open. Patroclus looked down at the water and remained silent as Kris began to read.

_Dear Whoever the Hell They Send After Me:_

_I'm screwed. Get it? S-C-R-E-W-E-D. SCREWED. And if you're in Greece during the Trojan War, you're probably screwed too._

_I'm guessing that if you're there, then programming did not find out what was wrong with me. Neither did the network, I'm guessing. And Tony didn't manage to pull through. Because if they fixed their mistake, then I would be home right now. And if they didn't…you're stuck too._

_Let me explain. You're gonna hate me, but let me explain. _

_When the headmen of the World Traveling System first got together, they created a list of places and times that no one can visit. NO ONE. These places include, but are not limited to, the Bible, all Free-Mason Society meetings, Mt. Everest, and the Trojan War. Maybe the headmen thought that if anything, anything, changed, then the world would go caput. Maybe it will. _

_Tony and I found a way to bypass this…or so we thought. I got sent here to test - we thought that since it was a few years ahead of the Trojan war, I'd be fine. Well, nope. I'm not fine. I'm stuck. I can't get back. I don't know why. The only thing left at Base is a body that looks like me. It has no brain. It has no…nothing. _

_Get back, now, before this happens to you. Tell them what happened. Ask Tony to please, I'm begging you, not give me a funeral. If it's too late for you…then look me up. I'm moving to Athens. _

_Yours, screwed, _

_Dwain Roberts. _


	6. SCREWED, Part Two

**_Ugh. I feel like this is another sub-par chapter, but I also feel like I need to post. I've been sidetracked for the past few days; please forgive! _**

**_A Lady In The Golden Wood _**

"Okay," Kristin said, still stunned. "Okay."

She was back at Base. She honestly hadn't thought about using her last pause when she thought about broccoli and cheese. She thought, _Okay. Okay. It's going to be okay_, in between her broccoli-and-cheese thoughts. Johnny and Maurice had been summoned as quickly as possible; they had read the letter. Or, Maurice had read the letter. Johnny was in the process.

"I'm back. So I'm fine, right?" Maurice didn't answer, and Johnny was still reading. "Right?" she asked again.

"Sure," Maurice said. Kris sunk back down into the pad, covering her eyes with cold hands.

"I'm screwed!" she wailed. "How could this even happen?"

"Quiet down," Maurice said gently. "It'll be okay, Kristin. We'll figure this out."

"But I'm back!" Kris exclaimed. "Even if this is network ground, I can go home from here, right?"

"Not right now you can't," Johnny said, handing her the parchment with un-parchment like writing on it. "Maurice, go check Dwain's brainwaves. If they don't change at all in a minute, tell me." Maurice turned to Dwain's computer and started bringing screens up. "Now, this was given to you by a person in the story?" Johnny asked.

"Patroclus," Kris answered, still covering her eyes.

"And he remembered Dwain? He wasn't in a trance of some sort?"

"Yes." Kris moved her hand and looked at Johnny. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"Not yet," he said grimly, moving back to her computer. "When did Dwain leave the ship?"

"I think it was three months ago," Kris said quietly, trying to calm down. "But I'm really not sure."

"Okay," Johnny continued. "Has anything weird been happening since you got there?"

"Weird?" Kris laughed. "Plenty. I've been having these memories that send me into an unconscious state." Johnny's head snapped around towards her. "They don't seem to be important to the story that Mark wants me in, but I've been having a lot. It's like déjà vu, or something."

"Explain," Johnny commanded.

"Like, I'm really remembering something. Not part of the program, but a real memory." Kris looked towards him and frowned. "That's weird, right?"

"Do remember any names from the dreams?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah. Like, Conrad, and Tristan, and…Carbrian? Something like that." Kris looked at Maurice, who was listening even as he typed, then back at Johnny. Neither man spoke; Johnny looked defeated.

"You're allowed to say you're screwed now," Johnny said bleakly.

"John!" Maurice snapped.

"What?" the old man asked. "She is!" He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his white hair. "This has only happened four times before, unless it happened before I became head here." Johnny sighed. "I'm sorry, Kris. There's nothing I can do about this. What's wrong with you doesn't even relate to why Dwain can't come back."

"I need you to explain," Kris said slowly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Okay," Maurice said from the computer. "Johnny, Dwain's brain waves haven't changed in over three hours." Johnny sighed again.

"Dwain can't return because he broke the rules," he stated. "That is plain right now. The founders of this program were geniuses."

"Genii," Maurice corrected.

"When they made a rule, it was for good," Johnny continued without acknowledging his partner. "I guess Tony thought he'd found a way through. There is no way to get in and get _out_, though." His old face looked severally stressed. "Tony might get in trouble for this," he commented, shaking his head.

"Tony _will _get in trouble for this," Maurice corrected.

"But that doesn't have anything to do with your problem," Johnny told Kris. "Your problem is Displacement Disorder."

"And that is?" Kris asked.

"A mental disorder that appears when a traveler is sent to a world they are not ready for." Johnny laughed. "Which is surprising in your case. It usually happens in ameture travelers. We don't entirely understand the disorder, but the few patients that we have been able to interview said that they experienced startling, sometimes horrific, gruesome, and terrifying memories that they did not understand."

"That doesn't really fit," Kris said. "I mean, they aren't bad memories. They aren't like a horror story, or something."

"Displacement Disorder is what it _has _to be," Johnny said. "There's _nothing _else it could be." Kris shrugged, but it didn't seem right.

"So you're saying I have a mental disorder?" she asked. "And it's permanent?"

"Oh no," Johnny said quickly. "The memories will stop soon, I assure you. The thing is," with this he leaned forward, "when the memories stop, then you'll be stuck. And if they don't stop soon, you will literally have them for forever."

"I'm screwed!" Kris groaned.

"And the pause is up in a minute," Maurice snapped. "It's also your last."

"I'm screwed."

"Stop saying that," Maurice said angrily. "Is it worth the risk to pull the plug on her computer?" he asked Johnny.

"No," Johnny said after a long moment. "Pulling the plug of your computer takes it off the network," he explained to Kris. "You'd be jerked back to your home base, probably with permanent mental damage."

"Well, if not, then I'll be stuck in _Greece _for forever."

"We can still contact you," Johnny said, trying to make her feel better. It didn't work. "We're in contact with a few others too. One's the president of a third-world planet near Saturn. Another is starting a family."

"It's perfectly possible to live a normal life in another world," Maurice added.

"Right," Kris snapped. "And in the meantime, I live forever?"

"We could destroy your body here after a certain amount of time?" Johnny asked. Then he looked at Maurice.

"Against the rules," they said together. "But we could try," Maurice added.

"This is so…final," Kris said, shivering. "Are you sure this isn't a practical joke on your part?" They both shook their heads bleakly. "Okay." Kris took a deep breath, trying to keep down the panicky feeling she had in her chest. "Okay," she said again. "Will you tell Macy Reynolds that she needs to kill Mark the next time she sees him? She works in programming. And contact Mark and torture him for a couple days, if you can. Have him say…goodbye, to the people back home." Kris shook her head. _This isn't happening. This isn't happening_.

"Will do," Johnny said.

"No," Kris snapped suddenly. "Pull the computer plug. I don't care, just do it."

"We can't," Johnny said. "But if we can get your programmer up here to change his work, then we can pull you back in. You may have debilitating memories, but I guess that would seem better to you. Correct?"

"Yeah." Kris looked around. "Please, try that."

"We will," Johnny assured her.

"Time's up," Maurice said sharply. Kris felt the tug before his words were all the way out.

"I'm so screwed," she muttered as she passed back into the program network.

**_The End of the SCREWED duo. I did sooo much revising to this section; it's not even funny. _**

**_A Lady in the Golden Wood_**


	7. Remember Love

The first sensation was the sea breeze blowing her hair back from her face. Kristin waited for the other sensations to catch up -- sensations like wood under her feet, railing against her arms, and voices around her. They never did.

Her eyes opened on their own to show Kris that she was floating above the ship, her body lifeless under the never-ending sky. She saw Achilles talking with a few men by the fire; Patroclus and herself still stood at the railing. Everything but the waves on the ocean was frozen in place.

After a moment, her eyes moved upwards on their own. Kris would have gasped in surprise and recognition if she had been able to move. On the far side of the ship, something that looked like a person faced her. Even though they were a distance apart, Kris could see the woman as clearly as if she was standing right in front of her.

Long blonde hair reached down to her knees and drifted in the breeze. Violet-blue eyes gazed across the empty space between them. Red lips twisted into a graceful smile; slender hands held a dark wood staff carved with the same runes that marked Kristin's blades. The gauzy white material of an elegant, but simple, dress drifted in the wind.

The Lady did not speak, but neither she did not take her intense eyes off Kris. Kristin felt like this woman could tell everything about her just by looking; the strange thing was, she didn't mind. Nothing was kept hidden from this golden lady. The breeze grew stronger for a moment, then, in an abrupt gust, died down. Kris shivered as the Lady spoke.

"My daughter, why have you come here?" she asked, a remorseful look on her face. Her voice was low and soft; it reminded Kristin of summer days with the sun shining on the fields as the wind blew through the knee-high grass. "Why are you so far south?" the woman continued. "Your land is in the North, in the rocks and the fields and forests, not in this sandy place." There was contempt in her voice as she continued. "The southern gods are lazy, too interested in their bedmates and tables to take interest in the affairs of the humans," she continued. "Soon, there will be a conflict that can not be resolved easily. You should not be a part of it."

"My Lady," Kris said softly. The woman didn't seem to hear.

"Why do you linger here?" The Lady's eyes shone dangerously. "Have you lost your sense of duty?"

"What do you mean?" Kris asked, but still the Lady did not seem to hear.

"My daughter, your place is in the North," she said again. "It is not your responsibility to help these Greeks. Return to the North; return to your brother and your country."

"Lady, I can't," Kris replied loudly. For the first time, the Lady heard her; she remained silent. "I have been sent here on a mission." Kris had no idea what she was saying. The words came out in a blank second when she hadn't been sure what to say. "Who are you?" she asked, curious and feeling annoyed.

A soft laugh came from the Lady. "Haven't you guessed?" she asked softly, the words moving through the air so it sounded like she was speaking into Kristin's ear. "My Daughter, my hand has been on you since the day of your birth. You know who I am."

A name entered Kristin's mind, a name that was never spoken, but is in everyone's heart the day they are born. A name that was beauty, power, wisdom, and everything good in-between. That name was Justina -- the Lady, the companion of the Great Lord, the lover of the North. Kris looked across at the woman, her curiosity raging like a fire. The Lady laughed again.

"Yes, I am she," the Lady said softly. _I am she_, the voice repeated, this time inside Kristin's head. She felt the need to bow, show some sign of respect, but she didn't want to move.

"And now, my daughter, it is time for you to return home," the Lady said clearly. "This land is not the right place for you." The Lady glanced down at the ship; something caught her eye. She frowned slightly and spoke again. "What is he doing here?" she asked, her voice troubled; she was not asking Kristin. "He has the hand of Bromos on him." The Lady looked back at Kris. "Why is he on the ship?" she asked, voice clear.

"He is Achilles," Kris replied, no doubt in her mind about whom she was talking. "He is the greatest warrior of this land. He is the one who pulled me out of the sea and kept me from death." Kris felt herself defending the man, even though she couldn't imagine why. It might be nice to have Achilles blasted out of the water by this goddess.

"He should not be here either," the Lady said, more to herself than Kristin. "I will take the both of you now-"

Her voice was cut off by a harsh cry from below. Kristin's attention was yanked down; another being left the water, but no one could mistake this one for human. Water poured from her hair and dress as she rose above the blue-green surface. She wore a dress of sea blue, green sea-weed wrapped around her waist as a belt. Her skin was a lighter and paler shade of blue than her dress; her hair was a dark blue, waist length and tangled. She had the appearance of a human -- a beautiful woman, except for her colored skin and hair. And the fact that her hands and feet were webbed.

"You will _not _take him _anywhere_!" the newcomer cried. She sounded like a drama queen, her voice full of violent emotion. "He belongs here in Greece, with his mother, no matter what Northern barbarian laid his hands on him." Salt water dripped from her dress as she came toward the Lady.

The Lady looked at the woman. "He is yours?" she asked, her voice stern. The newcomer hesitated at her tone, but ended up nodding.

"He is my son," she said, her voice almost quivering. "I had no choice when Bromos marked him, but you can not take him."

"You are Thetis?' the Lady asked. The nymph nodded, raising her chin. "I will not take him now," Justina stated, "He will find that his destiny will pull him North." Thetis shook her head.

"Not if I can help him," she said vehemently. The Lady laughed.

"No one but my Lord can deny Bromos what he wants," she told Thetis. "But I will stall him, for your sake." Thetis raised her blue eyebrows and looked around. Her eyes found Kris.

The girl had been watching in silence, amazed at the scene before her. For a moment, nothing registered on the nymph's face; then a look of surprise overcame her features.

"Oh!" she said softly, her eyes lit up by some secret thing. Without any apparent effort, she floated through the air to Kristin's side, a look of wonder on her face. Kris could smell her perfume now - sea breeze, mixed with the scent of green places. Thetis gazed at her unashamedly for a moment, before turning back to the Lady.

"She is yours?" she asked, wonder in her voice. The Lady nodded regally.

"I believed that the last had been taken years ages ago," Thetis said quietly. Justina's hands tightened on her staff; a brief flash of pain filled her eyes. Thetis turned to Kris without noticing. "Have you been trained?" she asked, her voice condescending.

"Uh," Kristin replied, unsure of what she was talking about. "I'm not sure…" she looked to the Lady. "My Lady?"

"You many answer," Justina replied, her voice kind.

"I don't know what to answer," Kris said slowly. "I don't know what anyone is talking about," she added. Thetis laughed out loud, but Justina narrowed her eyes.

"Maude has lost some of her touch, I am afraid." Justina shook her head sadly. She seemed to call Kris forward to her; she floated across the ship, stopping a foot away from the goddess. The Lady reached out, placing her hand on Kristin's cheek. A frown appeared on her face. The expression was at odds with her nature; it disappeared in a moment.

"My daughter, where have you been?" she asked softly. "All your memory is filled with odd places, nothing of home." Regret came into her eyes; she carefully took Kristin's head in both hands. "What has she done to you?" she asked inquisitively, staring deep into Kristin's eyes.

_For a moment, Kristin remembered nothing. The heat of the Lady's skin flooded her nerves, and Kris fought hard to try to remember anything, just to make her happy. In a long moment, her mind was flooded with memories long buried. The life that had been completely forgotten while she traveled to this time and place, this exact moment. The Lady sighed. _

_"Maude chose a dangerous way to send you," she stated, her voice serious. "She had you born again into another world. It looks as if you have been living for more than your sixteen years." Justina smiled sadly. "As if you did not already grow up too quickly. I must have a word with her soon." Kristin said nothing, but kept staring into the Lady's eyes. Justina smiled. "My daughter, do you remember?" _

_She was Kristin, daughter of Carbrian, King of the North, trained as mage and warrior. She was part of a failing line, her father and mother dead, her extended family being slowly killed off by war and disease. She was on a mission for her teacher and commander, a mission that might save her country. Kris had been away from home for five months, but she had lived sixteen years. _

_Kristin saw deep fields of green; the grass that blew in the strong wind looked like an ocean. She saw cliffs of gray stone and herds of great horses, long hair blowing in the Northern wind. She saw a child's doll -- old and ratty, but the glass eye still gleaming -- clutched in dirty hands. She saw villages, dirty cobbled streets, people buying and selling in the streets. She saw the castle, huge and towering over all else. An army gathered outside it's stone walls. Swords, axes, and knives shone silver under the sun. _

_She saw her mother, beautiful in simplicity, her dreadlocked blonde hair hanging down her back as she wrote in the small book she had always kept in a close pocket. She saw Carbrian, her father -- old, but strong and bitter as a rock in winter. She saw Maude, the old woman, her tight curls white with age, a smile lighting an aged face. She saw her brother, Conrad, when his eyes were still bright blue and filled with sight. She saw faces she remembered from a childhood long past. A buck-skin horse approached her across cut fields, taking her own sweet time in doing so. _

_Kris saw tall pine trees go up in flames from a curse gone astray. She saw the armies of the East, spread out in front of the plateau like the waters of a new sea, their banners of death flapping in the harsh wind. She saw the body of Conrad after what that witch Coal had done to him. She saw the Eastern king, his eyes hard and cruel as he taunted her. She saw her mother, eyes glazed in pain as she hung by her hands from a tall post on the edge of the army camp, her torn dress soaked in blood. She saw her father stab the last prisoner, his eyes full of hate and rage, when her mother died from her wounds. She saw him lift the knife and bring it down again, this time in his own gut. She saw the funeral procession, the funeral pyre of her both her parents combined. She saw the throne, empty, the advisors standing 'round, their faces more than just worried. They were afraid. _

_She saw Tristan and his panther, coming to their rescue at the last moment, holding the army together after the king's death. She saw him fighting in the first battle, holding his sword in one hand, his horn in the other. She saw him reaching a hand out to her, waiting, even though the fire grew closer, even as arrows flew out of the woods around them. She saw his smile, hard and kind at the same time, as he leaned down to pull her out of a pit. _

_"Kristin, Kristin," he sighed even as she scrambled up. "What do we do with a warrior as clumsy as you?" He smiled to show he didn't really mean it, but his words cut deep. _

_She saw Conrad, his eyes still blue, as he lifted her up in front of him on the horse. She saw him, teaching her how to fight with the two knives, shaking his blond hair out of his eyes as he grinned. She saw those same eyes sightless, the entire eye gone white, gazing at nothing as she pulled him up off the ground. She saw the look of helplessness and rage on his face as he screamed at his endless night in the darkness, standing a foot from the edge of the cliff. _

_She saw Maude, white curls pulled tight into a bun. She saw her teaching, her eyes lit by some passion unknown to Kristin that was kindled by learning. She remembered all the things Maude ever taught her. She saw her wounded, limping back to the camp in the night, not telling where she'd been. She saw Maude doing battle with the witch Coal, her blue rage flowing through her hands in an attempt to kill the witch._

_She saw Flame, her face lit up by the fire in front of her, both her hands raised as she contemplated the tongues of fire that licked her fingers. She saw Flame reach towards her, her hand graceful, nails a deep red, in an offering of friendship. Flames danced in the woman's eyes as she fought with an eastern mage -- flames that gave the Westerner her name. She saw her friend and fellow student laughing behind Maude's back, an orange and blue dancing flame flitting through the air towards the teacher. _

_She saw Nancy, the silent girl, as she comforted Conrad in the night. She saw her baking with the house-hold workers, a smile on her beautiful face. She had kept her head in battle, even when surrounded by every kind of evil thing, and shot her arrow straight at the heart of the eastern king. Kris saw her crying, head in her hands. Crying was the only noise that she ever did make -- the sound of her tears falling. _

_She remembered all the spells, all the uses for the power that lived inside her. The ones for water, the ones for land, the ones for weather, the ones for building, the ones for healing, the ones for killing. She remembered how to communicate with wild beasts, but especially horses, as it was with all Northern mages._

_Her past had come to be her future. Her past had been left behind forever. Now it was time to face forward…but which way was forward? _

"Yes," Kristin said, her voice no more than a whisper. "I remember."

The Lady smiled softly, pulling Kris's head forward and planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Sometimes we'd rather not remember," she said softly after drawing back. Kris nodded.

"Maude wanted to make sure I wasn't followed," she said quietly. "She created a new world for me to travel through. I lost all knowledge and memories in the process." _Did I?_

"Now you have them back," the Lady laughed. "You know what you must do?" Kris thought for a moment, remembering her last talk with Maude.

_"I will go," Kris said, her voice strong. "You can not stop me, Maude." _

_"I know," the woman replied, gripping her staff, her knuckles white. "I know you would go. But Tristan-" _

_"He can't afford to follow me," Kris said hurriedly. "Tell me what I need to do." _

_"Convince this warrior to come North," Maude said quickly. "He is the only hope we have." A voice sounded outside the door; it was Nancy. "You need to go now," Maude said quietly, taking Kristin's arm. She pulled her out onto the stone outcropping, then down the stairs into the forest_.

Kris nodded. The Lady smiled.

"Good. I wish you were not here, but we have been waiting too long to make you start again. Take my blessings, young one." She leaned forward and kissed her forehead again. "Remember love," she said softly, a smile on her fair lips. Kris felt the old heartbreak rising up as she heard her mother's words.

"Remember love," Kristin whispered back, tears coming to her voice. The Lady smiled again, her eyes kind.

"Stay here in the South, then," she said, louder, loud enough for Thetis to hear. "Maybe the gods here will leave you be. If they don't, call upon me, and I will make sure they learn," she said, eyes lit with a mischievous glow. She reached out and touched Kristin's short hair with a sigh. "I will keep watch," she told her, "but it can't be constant. I still must watch over the ones back home." Kris nodded.

"Then go in peace," the Lady said softly. She turned to Thetis. "Do you have anything to say to her?" she asked the nymph. Thetis shook her head, dark blue hair swaying with the movement.

"Just be careful around Zeus. He is power hungry and would jump at the chance to have a daughter of Justina's to hold sway over." Thetis smiled at the girl. "And be careful around my son. He hasn't much propriety." The Lady laughed. Thetis shrugged.

"I've noticed," Kris said dryly.

"Good bye, dear one," Justina said, her voice full of her soft, endless joy. "I will tell your brother of your safety. And perhaps Tristan - have you a message for him?" The goddess's vivid eyes shone with laughter. Kris shook her head.

"You might tell him that Flame is still waiting for him to see her." Kris said, eyes twinkling. Justina nodded and disappeared, her face never losing that beautiful joy.

_Remember love_, Kris thought.

_Remember love_, a foreign voice echoed through her head. _Remember love_.

_**This was a big time transition chapter. The first six chapters act as more of an introduction than anything else - we don't get a whole lot of that anymore. I'm sorry it's so weird. **_

_**A Lady in the Golden Wood**_


	8. In the North

**_Huh. It just doesn't make sense. Now that school's started, I have more time for writing? _**

**_Oh well. I really don't mind. _**

**_A Lady in the Golden Wood_**

Maude Whitethorn hadn't seen Kristin, King's Daughter, in nearly five months. She'd originally thought she would be back in two. The old woman felt weary, more than she ever had before, and the cause for all her weariness tapered down to one little statement -- Coal was back.

"You can't keep hiding the truth from us," Conrad, King's Son, said from across the room. Maude looked up at her fellow council members who had been losing as much sleep as she had. She met Conrad's white eyes.

"The truth, my lord," she said in her gravelly voice, "would be worse than your not knowing." Maude Whitethorn was short and weathered. Her white hair was pulled back in a half ponytail, away from her wrinkly, but surprisingly young face. Her eyes were a dark blue, dark as the night sky, but not black. Maude carried a staff, her only weapon -- for the moment. It was made of silver, inlaid with tiny blue stones. On top, a large blue stone was embedded in the silver. Runes were etched down the length of the staff, covering every inch on the silver.

Maude wore a gray fighting dress, the skirt part slit in four up to her knees, underneath, leggings. Over the tunic, she wore a cloak of deep blue, pinned with a silver broach shaped like a thorn bush. She wore no other jewelry or decorations but for a sliver and blue stone ring on her right hand.

"Where is she?" Tristan asked, for the millionth time since Kris had left. He stepped forward out of the shadows, his own, ever-present shadow beside him. Maude glared at the panther, than looked into Tristan's eyes. The man looked tortured, like he hadn't slept since Kris had left. Maybe he hadn't.

"Tristan, stop your questioning," she snapped, trying to ignore the frustration in his eyes. "I told you, she has gone to search for the answer to the prophecy."

"Maude, please," Conrad continued, ignoring Tristan. "We need her back. Not because she is heir, but because we are already one down, with Galmoun gone, and we need another mage on the frontlines. In case they start to fight again." Maude sighed deeply. That was the truth.

"Maude, enough of this," Flame snapped from her corner. She stood, using her own staff as a crutch to stand. It was gold, a single red gem encrusted on the top. In a swirl pattern down the staff, a line of small orange, red and yellow stones ran down the length. Fire runes were carved into the gold.

Flame Firebright herself was the kind that stood out…in the middle of a gypsy fair, with jugglers and magicians and warriors and whores and people of all kinds and looks. She was tall, above six foot. Her long hair was red-orange, yellow streaks appearing ever so often in the mess. She wore an outfit similar to Maude's, only her dress was vivid red, her cloak black. She was gorgeous, enough to wring any man's heart. Until they looked into her eyes, that is. The gods had given Flame fire in her eyes. Most times, they were brown. But when she battled, flames -- red and orange and yellow and blue -- engulfed her irises.

Flame walked forward, still using the staff to support herself. Her right leg was wrapped in a tough, off-white cast. She'd broken it by falling off her horse that morning. Maude snorted inwardly. Only someone who could jump from cliffs without injury would forget to protect herself while she rode horse-back. With the healing she, Maude, had placed on it, Flame's leg be better by morning, but it was the most painful of healings, even if it was the fastest. Maude could tell that her student was in pain as she walked out from the shadow of a pillar.

"Maude, you must tell us where she is," Flame said again. "She is too young to be on her own. I know you think she has had enough training, but I do not." Her eyes met Maude's. "She's only sixteen," the other woman said quietly.

"Exactly!" Tristan yelled. "Please, Maude," he pleaded, walking forward to her chair. "I need to know." His eyes flashed, anger and fear and caring all in one. "Please," he said under his breath at the look Maude sent him.

"Maude, as your King, I can order you to tell me at once," Conrad said, "But I'd rather you volunteer the information." Conrad stood from his chair and walked down the steps of the small dais. "She is my sister," he pleaded, waving Nancy off. She had stood from her stool at his feet, thinking to help him if he needed it, but she sat back again when he shook his head.

Maude sighed again, crossing her arms over her chest. She was tired. She wanted to sleep. And they wouldn't leave her alone till she told them. She thought hard for a few minutes, her eyes closed, the room silent. Everyone knew better than to interrupt Maude Whitethorn when she was thinking.

Finally, she opened her eyes and stood up.

"Fine," she barked out. "Kristin offered to go _fulfill _the prophecy." No one moved except for Flame. She gasped slightly.

"What?" Tristan asked. "What does she mean?" Flame glanced at him, then turned back to look at Maude, amazement in her eyes.

"She willingly went?" she asked, unbelieving. Maud nodded, feeling terrible.

"What do you mean?" Tristan yelled again. The panther walked forward, feeling his friend's fear and anger. He looked at Maude with yellow eyes that pierced her heart.

"I mean, she offered to finish the prophecy," Maude yelled. "She wouldn't take no for an answer. I thought to send her into safety, but she read my mind. She made me send her to him." Maude sat down again, sadness gripping her body. She was old; Kristin was like a daughter to her.

"You mean she left the North Kingdom?' Tristan yelled. The panther flicked his tail back and forth, looking for all the world like he wanted to pounce on something, anything.

"Yes," Maude said softly. "She left the North Kingdom. She is in the South now. With your brother." Tristan went cold at her words.

"You sent her to Achilles?" he asked, unbelieving. Maude nodded, her head in her hands, then stood up, flinging a ball of her power at the opposite wall. It exploded in a silent, yet brilliant flash of blue, sparks flying everywhere.

"I had no choice!" she yelled. "Even if she was not willing. The Lady herself ordered it. Don't you think I would have gone first, sent anyone else before I would send Kristin?" She threw another ball at the wall. This one exploded just as brilliantly. Maude started to pace, in a rage.

"But, Maude," Flame said, her voice weak, "you sent her to _Achilles_?"

"Yes!" Maude yelled, stomping down hard on the stone floor. "Don't you see? The man is the only way to win this war. Not just a battle, not a skirmish, but the war." She turned back towards Tristan. "Don't you see?" she asked, her voice softer. "With your brother at your side, we could finish this war." Tristan stared at Maude till her gaze made him look away. No one could lock gazes with Maude and win.

"Maude, we have to send someone," Flame said, placing a hand on the older woman's arm. "Kris is too young…too much could happen."

"She is right," Conrad said. "Maude, I wish you had told us sooner, before Tristan wore himself out so much searching." Tristan had indeed just returned from his Kingdom wide search, a useless waste of time. "Prepare to send some one at once."

"I'm going," Tristan said instantly. The panther rubbed up against his leg. Glancing down, he smiled. "As will Agathon."

"I'm not sending that cat any wear-"

"Yes, you are, Maude," Conrad commanded her. Silently, Maude cursed the stand-in-king in every language she knew.

"And I am going," Flame said, standing up as straight as her leg would allow. Tristan looked at her gratefully and walked to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No, you're not," Maude snapped. "I can't hold the lines by myself, you know."

"We'll be back in less than a day," Tristan said, looking worried at the thought of traveling South by himself."

"Enough," Conrad commanded, power in his voice. "Maude, prepare to send them as soon as Flame's leg heals. Tristan, meanwhile, we need to talk."

"As you wish," Tristan said, reluctantly leaving Flame behind as he followed his blind commander. The panther followed him. Conrad walked to the left of the dais and through a door craved in the stone. It led into the strategy room, the place where commanders discussed battles. The walls were covered in maps, the enemy's positions shown in sparkling, black stars, the North in white. Too much of the maps were covered in black.

Conrad turned around, staring at Tristan with his sightless eyes. Though Conrad couldn't see the normal way, he had developed a disconcerting ability to read people's emotions, with deadly accuracy.

"You must be careful around this brother," he said after a moment. "He is older than you, even if only by a few months, and you need be careful." Conrad sank into a couch, sitting erect and straight. "How is it between you and Flame?"

"She has agreed that it would not be…wise to unite now," Tristan said, taking the place beside Conrad. Agathon laid down on his feet. "But with the king's permission, we will, as soon as the war is over."

"Why wait?" Conrad asked, a sparkle of humor in his eyes. "Such a thing as love…surely it would lighten the spirits of the troops, to see their beloved warrior married to their beloved sorceress."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Agathon, would you fetch Flame?" Conrad asked the panther, ignoring Tristan. "And Maude?" The cat stood, growling, but stalked out the door.

"My lord," Tristan began, "maybe now is not the time-"

"Nonsense," Conrad said with conviction. "Just because Nancy and I must wait doesn't mean you and Flame do."

"But, it is so soon…"

"Oh, cheer up Tristan. Imagine the look on Kris' face when you tell her." Conrad laughed.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Tristan said softly under his breath.

"No," Conrad said, hearing his words. "I know for a fact that she got over you long ago. She just doesn't like to discuss it; it makes her feel like a fool."

"If my family and I knew each other as well as you and Kristin do, there would be no problems," Tristan grumbled. Agathon raced back in and jumped on top of him, nuzzling his face.

"Perhaps you'd rather stay united with dear cat only?" Conrad suggested, smiling coyly. Tristan ignored him; Flame and Maude had entered the room.

"My lords?" Maude asked, her voice tired. Instantly, Conrad felt bad. She had been too busy in the past weeks, no rest. She needed sleep. Conrad stood up, trusting Tristan to guide him to where the women were standing.

"Flame, I have been told that you and Tristan wish to wed," he declared. Flame's eyes opened wide and her cheeks went red, but she nodded.

"It is the truth," she said softly, meeting Tristan's eyes. A warm feeling washed over her; even in the beginning, Maude had declared them "annoying companions". The Lady herself had decreed it, she said. Even now, Flame could feel her heart warming.

"Then let it be done," Conrad said, instantly assuming his kingly voice. "Tristan," he said, holding one hand out to the left. Tristan took Conrad's fingers. Flame took the right hand.

"Maude?" Conrad asked. The woman sighed, but stepped forward, standing straight in front of Conrad, and tapped the joined hands, first the right, then the left. A white glow sprang from the hands.

"As the king of the North Kingdom, while the rightful heir is away, I take it upon myself, Conrad, son of Carbrian, to join the hands of Flame Firebright and Tristan, South's Panther. In love they pledge themselves."

"In love we pledge ourselves," the couple murmured. Tristan looked over at Flame, meeting her eyes and holding them.

"In danger, they will defend."

"In danger, we will defend," they repeated. Maude tapped the hands again. The stone on her staff began to glow.

"In life, they will devote themselves."

"In life we will devote ourselves." Flame could feel the binding magic of Maude's sweep up her arm, invading her own power. She never took her eyes of Tristan's, though. Her arm began tingling.

"In death, they will not fight."

"In death, we will not fight." Tristan kept his eyes on Flame's. They were beginning to change, her own fire rising up from the brown. Rather than finding it disconcerting, Tristan loved it.

"I bind you," Maude said, her voice resounding in the small room. Conrad lifted his hands, bringing the two hands in front of him and placing one hand in the other. Maude tapped the joined hands. Both Flame and Tristan felt the magic flow up their arms, washing across their shoulders, down into the very toes. For one intense moment, the white light in the hands and staff flashed brilliant, then died.

On the skin of the ring fingers of both Flame and Tristan, a ring of twisting black threads had appeared. Entwined amongst the threads were runes of love, faith, and devotion, as well as a rune known only to the couple. Flame took a quick glance, then laughed out loud. Conrad smiled, but instead of laughing, he pulled Flame forward into a tight embrace.

Conrad stepped back, smiling, while Maude busied herself polishing the stone atop her staff with her cloak. Agathon came and rubbed against her legs, watching the couple.

_Dumb animal_, Maude thought, pushing him away with her foot.

_Don't be so up tight_, he replied, still rubbing against her. _This is good_.

_How do you know_? she replied. _Can you see the future_?

_No more than you_, the cat replied. He looked up at her, something akin to a smile in his eyes. _So be happy for now_.

Maude grumbled, but left her cloak fall, done polishing. Tristan had finally let go of Flame, thank the gods.

"I must be off to prepare for your journey," she told the couple. "My Lord," she nodded to Conrad. "Cat," she said, kicking him lightly with the toe of her soft leather boot. He rubbed his head against her leg and trotted off to stand by Tristan. Oh, they were kissing again. Maude muttered something about, "plenty of rooms in the tower," while she walked out of the room. Conrad laughed followed her, meeting Nancy at the door and leaving the two newly weds in the strategy room. Although it was called the strategy room, when the door sealed with a black light as soon as he was through, Conrad was almost positive that it would be getting different uses that night.

****

**_As always, tell me what you think. I know this has done an absolute U-turn, but I kinda like it. _**

**_A Lady in the Golden Wood_**


	9. Meliboea

_**My sister surprised me with a great book today entitled **__**Rockstars on God**__**. It's a compilation of the best interviews that author Doug Van Pelt has had with various rock artists, asking them about their beliefs about religion and Jesus Christ in particular. (Doug Van Pelt interviews rock bands for HM magazine) I've read a few of the interviews already, and a quote from one really stuck out to me. **_

_**"All my religious beliefs are based on Star Wars." **_

_** Mike Dirnt, bassist of Green Day **_

_**Ha, ha, real quote. This really just makes me laugh. Best one yet is the interview with Rage Against the Machine's lead guitarist, Tom Morello. **_

_**"An abortion should be a very difficult choice and should never be taken lightly, but the choice should not be made by the government…when the government gets involved in the issue, horrible things happen." **_

_**Obviously well thought about. **_

_**Sorry, this is random, but I like to share random things. I love rock and I love Jesus Christ, so this book is definitely in my top ten. **_

_**On to the real thing. **_

_**A Lady in the Golden Wood**_

_** PS - I don't know when Meliboea was established and how it relates to Greece in the Trojen War Era, but it's the city I chose. To all the history buffs who are going to make me look like an idiot, thank-you in advance. **_

_**A Lady in the Golden Wood  
**_

Walking down the sunbathed street was like swimming in a maze of brown clay. Every other house, a narrow alley appeared, as secret as the people who hid in the shade there. Dust rose at the slightest movement, dust that clung to every part of her being with a vengeance.

It was nearing midday in Meliboea, and Kris wished Achilles would just get to the point. Her shoulders were sweating under the knife sheaths, and drops of perspiration had long since taken up residence on her upper lip and forehead.

_We've been wandering the streets for hours. When is he going to realize that he doesn't have a sense of direction and just hire a guide?_ She sighed deeply, shooting a dirty look at the man beside her. Achilles continued to ignore her not-so-subtle hints; he turned down another side street, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she followed. _I'm sure we've been here before_.

Kristin sighed again and thought about the reason they were wandering the streets of Meliboea in the first place.

"_Achilles!" Odysseus exclaimed. "Thank the gods you've finally arrived." He glanced at me next, looked away, and did a double take. I think his mouth actually dropped open a little. "You, uh, found her," he finally mumbled. _

_"So it would seem," Achilles replied. Odysseus glanced at me again, taking in my crossed arms and bored expression, before moving back to Achilles. "There's been a bit of trouble," he admitted slowly. "Here in the city." _

_"What sort?" Achilles asked, instantly business. _

_"Well, it has to do with an old friend of yours," Odysseus said carefully. _

_"Alcaeus," Achilles said with a sigh. "That damn blacksmith." _

_"Well, you know him better than I do," Odysseus said quickly. "Agamemnon wants his help arming the soldiers, but Alcaeus says he won't take any part in this war, no matter how small." _

_"What? Not the Alcaeus I know." Achilles honestly looked startled; I kept my expression bored, acting as if I couldn't even understand the language. _

_"That's why we need you to speak with him," Odysseus explained. "Agamemnon doesn't like being refused." _

_"The idiot," Achilles muttered under his breath. "This is ridiculous. We just got here." _

_"Would you like a guide?" Odysseus looked sorry, but that didn't change anything. _

_"No need," Achilles replied quickly. "I know this city well enough." _

Kris snorted. _What a liar. _

Achilles looked up at the sound. She glared at him.

"Almost there," he assured her. Kris just shook her head and crossed her arms again.

"Who's Alcaeus?" she asked. The words had trouble coming out of her long-silent throat; she cleared it loudly and tried again. "Who is Alcaeus?"

"Alcaeus is…" Achilles looked at a loss for words. Kris waited for almost a half-minute before he finished. "A very old friend."

"So what makes him different from say, Odysseus?" Achilles snorted.

"Alcaeus has always been a little, well, rash." We turned another corner into a shaded street with hardly a temperature drop. "He was thrown out of Athens after his first man-slaughter."

"First?" Kristin asked, startled.

"Unintentional, of course," Achilles assured her. She raised her eyebrows. "With Alcaeus, it's always unintentional."

"Temporary insanity plea?"

"You could state it that way," Achilles answered. "Alcaeus and I were visiting Athens together a few months after we got out of our service term. He'd saved my neck as many times as I'd saved his. We swore to stay together forever. The rash promise of young friends." He shook his head grimly. "It was a fight day in Athens. Alcaeus decided it would be…interesting…to enter. Things got out of hand quickly. Alcaeus threw himself out of Athens when he realized what he'd done."

"Was this in remorse or to protect himself from the family of the deceased?"

"Both," Achilles replied. Kris nodded.

"And then he became a blacksmith?"

"No," Achilles said warily, glancing at her sidelong. "Then he joined up with a group of high-way men."

"Hmmm," Kris mused after a moment of silence. "And I'm guessing this is where the second man-slaughter comes in."

"They convinced him they were trying to rescue the daughter of a nearby lord from vicious robbers," Achilles laughed. "He didn't realize the truth until it was too late. Never was the greatest of thinkers, Alcaeus. Not dim, but…"

"Clueless?" Kris raised her eyebrows. A drop of sweat slid down her forehead, into her eyelash.

"Clueless," Achilles confirmed as she lifted a hand to wipe the sweat away. "Nearly mad with remorse, he wandered across Greece for a while, debating whether or not he should turn himself over to the authorities. In the end, he fell in love and moved here, to the city. He wrote and told me he'd finally found what he was meant to be -- a father and blacksmith."

"Good combination," Kris said. Achilles shook his head.

"I doubted he would stick with it," he admitted to her. "Alcaeus is too much a danger-lover. Most likely, he's defying Agamemnon because he is tired of his life."

"Well, we'll never know unless we get there, will we?" Kris asked grimly. "You do realize how long we've been out here, right?"

"Just around the next corner," Achilles said confidently.

Around the next corner was a bakery, looms-room, and a few hovels.

"That's it," Kris snapped. "You!" she shouted across the nearly empty square to a gangly, brown-haired boy lounging against a shady wall. He jumped up and jogged forward immediately. He was tall, but painfully thin, his shoulder blades poking up from underneath a ragged shift whose original color was indiscernible. "Name," Kristin snapped.

"Lucas," the boy said in a soft softly. He didn't quite manage to hide the squeak in his voice.

"Lucas," Kris said, ignoring the lack of a surname, "do you know the way to Alcaeus the blacksmith's house?"

"And forge," he answered.

"Lead the way, then," she said. "Achilles, I hope you have coin to pay him."

"We don't need-"

"Men can't admit they have no idea what they're doing," Kris told Lucas conversationally. "Please, don't ever become one." The boy stared at her for a moment, confused, before shrugging. He turned and pointed at the street they'd just come out of.

"We go this way," he said.

Less then ten minutes later, they could hear the sound of metal on metal. Achilles refused to meet Kristin's eye when she glanced over; with a sigh, she shook her head. _All guys are the same. _

At least he paid the orphan. Lucas smiled briefly before disappearing down the street they'd just come, pocketing the money as quickly as he moved.

"Alcaeus!" Achilles yelled, still not looking at Kris. The banging stopped in an instant.

"I told you, I won't have anything to do with this bloody dispute!" The voice came roaring out the open door from the dimly lit interior. "I am a free man and I will not, I swear I will not fix your oath breaking weapons!"

Kris took a mental step back as a giant of a man squeezed through the doorway, holding an sledgehammer in one hand and a short stick of glowing metal in the other. Over seven foot tall, Alcaeus had the same fair hair as Achilles; the resemblance ended there. Sharp black eyes took in the scene before him; enormous muscles loosened as he realized who his guests were. Huge lips broke into a grin, and the roar turned to laughter.

"Achilles!" he laughed. "I should have known you'd be here in no time." He dropped the hammer and tossed the metal to the side; it hit the wall of the house and left a burnt mark down the side as it fell. The giant stepped forward and gave Achilles a brotherly hug that lasted a bit longer than usual. "So, oath breaker!" he roared. Kris winced. "You've finally returned, three years after you said you would!"

"You must have lost track of time," Achilles stated as he stepped back. "Surely it hasn't been more than one."

"Surely it has been three," Alcaeus replied. "I would know. After all, I am the one you left behind to clean up the damage."

"Nonsense," Achilles said brightly. "Hardly any damage was done at all."

"Money owed to half the wine-shops in the town, a healer's full of dangerously wounded men, and a Lord's daughter deflowered?" His voice rose as he listed the damage. "You call this nothing?"

"Nothing at all, old friend," Achilles laughed. After a moment, Alcaeus joined him.

"Then who is this?" he asked suddenly, switching his attention to Kristin. He studied her for a silent moment, then nodded briefly. "I thought so. You two had better come inside." Alcaeus turned, walked around the corner of the smithy, and entered the building through another door. Achilles motioned Kris to follow him; without complaint, she did so.

"Wife's out of town, thank the gods," Alcaeus said. "I couldn't have planned it better if I'd known you were coming." Achilles sighed and shook his head mournfully.

"Alcaeus has never allowed me to meet his wife," he explained to Kristin. "He doesn't trust me."

"With good reason, I'm sure," she said, looking around the simple room. A wood table rested beneath an empty window, a fire-pit in the floor across the room, and a few wood shelves graced the walls.

"With the best reason!" Alcaeus exclaimed. "The man's not to be trusted. I'd advise you to never turn your back on him. Northerner or not, he'll make advances, I assure you."

"I know," Kris said dryly. Then, "Is it really so obvious I am from the North?"

"Only Northern women fight with those blades," Alcaeus answered, motioning towards the handles that were just visible over the tops of her shoulders.

"True," she said with a shrug.

"Sit down, sit down," Alcaeus said, motioning towards the table. Kris followed his orders, happily resting on a bench on the left side of the window. "Wine?"

"Would be lovely, if it's cold," Achilles answered, dropping down on the bench beside Kris. Alcaeus disappeared for a moment before returning with a clay jug; two wooden goblets, and a long, thing pipe.

"I've given up on alcohol," he admitted to Achilles. "Does things to me I don't like."

"I always knew you'd be no fun as an old man," Achilles mused. He busied himself filling the two glasses with drink while Alcaeus lit his pipe.

"So," the giant said after his first draft, "are you here to talk with me about Agamemnon or her?"

"Both," Achilles said, pushing a goblet in Kristin's direction. She picked it up and drained it, wondering if Alcaeus would ask her name or simply refer to her in the third person for the rest of the visit.

"Well, let us get the worst over with," Alcaeus said cheerfully. "Agamemnon first."

"Well," Achilles said slowly. "There is not much I have to say about this." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. Alcaeus did the same. "It is not his right to command you," Achilles said sternly. "If you give into him, I'll never speak to you again."

"Now that is the Achilles I remember," Alcaeus laughed. "But I did not need your advice in this subject."

"He's a brutish pig," Achilles said. "We both know that." Alcaeus nodded in agreement. "But he is also a brutish pig with resources," Achilles continued. "If you're going to defy him, I advise you do it more subtly."

"How do I refuse him any more subtly?" Alcaeus laughed. "I am not a man of many words, Achilles. I say, 'Get out of my shop,' and I mean get out of my shop."

"Give him your reasons," Achilles advised. "Give a religious reason, preferably."

"You mean lie to him."

"Of course I do." Achilles laughed under his breath.

"Well, thank you for nothing," Alcaeus said, shaking his head. "It'll be the same no matter what I say."

"Not if you-"

"Now, on to more interesting subjects," Alcaeus proclaimed, turning towards Kristin. He raised his eyebrows at the scowl on her face. "Not a very happy Northerner, are you?"

"You try getting lost on a day like this when he swears he knows the way," Kris said. "You would not be happy either."

"I'm sure!" Alcaeus laughed. "But most Northerners aren't happy anyways, nowadays, what with Achilles refusing to join his brother up there." He spoke jokingly, and both men laughed in disbelief. "Now, tell me your name, girl." For a moment, Kris debated lying. This man obviously knew a bit about what was going on in the North. While connections between the West and North were good, connections between the South and North were harried, sketchy at best. Maybe Achilles hadn't gotten the idea of how seriously the Northerners needed his help.

_Then maybe it will be good for him to understand how serious we really are. _

"I am Kristin, Carbrian's daughter," she stated. Alcaeus stared at her for a moment, then whistled softly under his breath.

"Achilles, don't you know your manners?" he asked. "You should show more respect to the only real royalty you'll ever meet." Achilles, to his defense, took it all in stride.

"Why do you tell him the truth, but not me?" he asked mournfully, facing Kris. She shrugged.

"I've only recently remembered what I was here for," she replied. "The journey was very- difficult."

"What are you here for?" Alcaeus asked suspiciously.

"You spoke the truth, Alcaeus," she stated. "We in the North aren't very happy, what with the East drawing in closer to the center of our kingdom every day and the knowledge that the one man who could help us force back the flood is refusing to fight for us." Both Alcaeus and Achilles looked startled. "King Groband's forces are moving closer than ever, and Coal-"

"Wait," Alcaeus said, looking flabbergasted. "We don't know that much about the situation up north. It would be helpful if you could explain the background." Kristin stared at him for a moment, then sighed.

"I am from the North," she began. "My teacher sent me here to look for a way to end the war that has plagued our land violently for almost six years and a dispute that has been rooted in the East for the past three centuries. It has drained our people, our way of life, our…king." She faltered, then began again. "Our king is dead, our queen is dead. My older brother is blind and refuses to inherit the throne. Therefore, I am the proper heir. I've also refused to assume the throne until the war has ended. While my brother is steward, I fight," Kris said with pride. " I am trained in some ways that most could not imagine. Our way of life in the North is very different from the Southern way. People in Greece don't realize their own powers. I have been trained as a mage."

"A what?" Achilles might not have understood her, but Alcaeus did. He choked on pipe smoke and started coughing.

"A magician, if you will. Only not the market place kind." Kris sighed. "Look, do you want me to start from the beginning? Alcaeus, you may understand what I'm saying, but Achilles is far behind."

"Might as well," the red-faced man said when he caught his breath. "I'd like to here it from you as well." Kris nodded and shrugged the sheaths of her knives off her shoulders, placing the ensemble on the table in front of her.

"The West, East, and North have always had workers of magic in their populations," she said. "Magic is nothing but the inward power of a person to do things that normally could not be done. There are few limits to what a magician can do with training. The line of magic runs in the royal family in the north. All my family had some training, but I was the first to decided to become a full-time mage." Achilles was still looking at me blankly.

"Move on," Alcaeus rumbled. "It'll take him a while to register that." I laughed a little and continued.

"Ten years ago, King Groband of the Eastern Nations sent ambassadors to King Carbrian of the North in an attempt for peace. Or so we were told. After they were given hospitality, shown the highest respect and given anything they needed, they put their plan in motion. The ambassadors kidnapped the son and daughter of King Carbrian and fled in the night. But, they never reached the border. The chief mage Maude Whitethorn harried the party until the King and his warriors could catch up. They were too late to save the children completely, though. The son, just ten, and the girl, six, were tortured mercilessly by an Eastern witch known only as Coal.

"The King was furious when he found his children. The girl was silent, unwilling to speak, and the boy in constant pain. Slowly, they were healed by Maude and returned to the castle with their father. The girl was silent for a whole year. No word was sent from The East, until exactly a year later. A letter arrived from Groband, claming possession of the North Kingdom, the people, and the King's family. He gave the king a month to pack himself and get away. That was Groband's first mistake. He gave us a month to prepare.

"When the Army of the East arrived, it was to a solid magical wall, built by Maude Whitethorn, Galmoun of Stone Tree, and Flame Firebright, the three most powerful mages in the North, probably the whole world. The Eastern Forces did not break through the wall for three years." Kris sighed heavily. "It was only by the betrayal of one of our own that they did. The King's own brother went at night and broke the stone of the wall-"

"Hold on," Achilles said. "You said the wall was made of magic." He spoke skeptically.

"Yes. To make the wall, the mages had to have a focus to hold the power - in this case, a stone, like the ones that made the castle walls - a block of plain granite. The focus is filled with the magic of the makers, giving their power a solid form. Then it can be molded into anything the makers want. The traitor broke the stone, thus breaking the focus, thus breaking the barrier. The Easterners flooded our land." Kristin's voice was bitter. "The traitor was caught and killed by Firebright before anyone could stop her. The war officially began then."

"I was ten at the time. It was my birthday, actually. The wall broke at midnight, and the Eastern warriors flooded our lands. The King was called away instantly, the army massed in minutes. They left for the border, taking my father and brother with them. At first, only the men left for war. The mages and women stayed behind to protect the home front. During this time, Maude Whitethorn took on my training even more seriously than she had before the war."

"For two years, the King was gone, fighting on the front lines. They managed to keep the Easterners back for a time, but the odds were too great, and slowly, the East army began to push back the Northern. Within another year, the battle was in the heart of the Kingdom, right in our area. I was fourteen in my first battle. It was a huge affair, and thank the gods we succeeded, driving the easterners back for a while. The King returned home for a time."

"We proceeded to let out guard down. It was the worse thing we could have done. Coal, a very powerful witch, slipped through our defenses with a troop of her trained witches, those who have given their souls over to her completely. She kidnapped the queen and the prince and disappeared. The King was distraught, though he and his generals began plans immediately. The main army would attack the Eastern force, while a small group would travel to the camp of the eastern king and rescue the Queen and Prince."

"I was chosen as part of the rescue mission. The King had to lead his army, so he entrusted me to Maude's care. We left at dusk of the second day after the kidnapping, already afraid that it was too late to save them. When we reached the camp, the great battle had begun, but our battle was not yet started."

"Unlike the King of the North, Eastern kings do not fight. They sit in the camp, torturing defenseless prisoners and raping innocent women," Kris said, a huge amount of hate in her voice. Achilles looked at Alcaeus, then back at Kristin. "I found my brother first. Coal had blinded him, turned his eyes white with whatever witchery she used. We killed most of the guards left in the camp; otherwise, it was almost empty except for the two people I want most in this world to kill: Coal, the Eastern Witch, and King Groband." Kris paused, wondering how she could portray the confusion and terror of that day to them, then decided that she was better off leaving it out.

"I found Maude fighting with Coal. Under both of us, she had to flee, leaving her king behind. But he was encased in a magic wall, one that we could not break since we could not find the focus. He mocked us as I searched for my mother. I found her hanging by her hands from a stake. Her dress was torn and bloodied. She had an arrow wound in her shoulder and knife cuts all over her." Kris tried controlling her voice, but the men could still hear the hate she felt as she spoke. "The unworthy dog had raped her, then left her to his men. I pulled her down from that poll just in time for her to die in my arms. The King laughed at us, then disappeared in thin air. I carried my mother back to the fortress, every miserable step."

"When the King saw his dead wife, he went insane. He had returned from the battle, bringing prisoners back with him. Almost all of them had been taken to the main prison, but there was one left. The King drew his knife, stabbed the prisoner in the back, then raised it and brought the blade down in his own gut. No one could save him."

"I was furious. My brother Conrad was blinded, his world eternally dark. My mother, father, both dead. Conrad hadn't healed enough to take control of the armies. I was left in that position."

"We were without hope. We fought to live, loosing a little more ground every day. Until Tristan came." Both men perked up at this name. "He wouldn't say where he was from, but he was one of the greatest warriors I'd ever seen. He fought with us, taking control of the armies. I am no leader; if he had not arrived, we would have been doomed." Memories of Tristan raced through Kristin's mind. "He is one of the greatest warriors ever known," she said, her voice going soft. "He fights in a deadly furry, his black panther always at his side." Achilles twitched a little when he heard that.

"We fought harder than ever before, if possible. Tristan led us in battle. The battles were always dangerous, with the Northern Mages and Easter Witches fighting against each other. A stray curse could light whole forests on fire. That happened once in the forest between the walls. Half our army was trapped in the burning wood. Maude and I captured the flames, kept them from growing, until our soldiers were through. Then Maude escaped. Before I could follow, Coal appeared."

"She did nothing but offer me a place at her side. I refused, of course. The she got angry, and began battling. As powerful as I was, I could do nothing but defend myself. She has a gift from the gods, though she uses it for the downfall of all things good. Tristan returned, and for some reason, she fled from him. By this time, the woods were all ablaze, the Eastern army shooting arrows our direction. We escaped, but not without consequences. I was…wounded. A parting gift from Coal; she likes to pretend she has a sense of humor. I couldn't move without a prompt from Tristan. I could not speak or defend myself. It was the most frustrating time of my life." Achilles laughed. " I wasn't released until Maude returned."

"There is an ancient prophecy," Kristin said, changing the subject abruptly. "I won't bore you with the details. But the gist of it is something like this." From memory, Kris recited the lines.

"_There is no hope left. The evil has grown till fire named fights fire made, till blind trains those of sight, till love is trapped under waters of hate. The winds grow cold, as they have never been before. But look up, there is always hope. Find the brother of the leader, the one who fights with his soul beside him. When united with the giver, the force will destroy your troubles._"

"Sounds like gibberish," Achilles said. Kris snapped out of the light trance she had been in.

"So it did to us as well. I rediscovered the prophecy while obeying a command of Tristan's to 'read' while under Coal's spell. In a way, she helped us discover our salvation." Achilles was staring at me blankly. " It sounded like nonsense…until Flame Firebright engaged Coal in battle." Achilles shrugged. " Fire named fights fire made?" Kris asked, jogging his memory. " Flame kept Coal from her desired prey. My blind brother Conrad had recently begun teaching children basic self-defense. And then word came of the South." Alcaeus began to nod slowly.

"We have not been in touch with southern kings for centuries," Kris told Achilles. "Our gods have never like the Southern gods. But word came north, of a blonde haired warrior who fought in determination, in absolute deadliness. He had never met a foe he could not match, they said. Much like Tristan." Kris looked at Achilles pointedly. He had no reaction for a moment, then twitched again.

"Me?" he asked. Kris nodded.

"Have you ever heard of Tristan, South's Panther?" Kris asked Alcaeus. He nodded again.

"In Greece, most think him legend or freak of the gods. We are told that he fights with a demon in the from of a black panther at his side-"

"Hardly a demon," Kris said. "More of an angel." Silent for a moment, Kris pictured Agathon in her mind, the cat that could raise her spirits with one look. "Maude sent me here because she thought you might be…the person the prophecy mentioned. I was sent to see if it was true." Kris finished talking and settled her shoulder against the wall, waiting for Achilles to speak.

"Is it?" he asked, laughing. Kris shrugged. "Your Maude really thought I might be brother to this warrior of the North?" Achilles laughed out loud, though Alcaeus looked uneasy.

"Watch," Kris said impatiently. She waved on hand in the air over the table, spreading a thin, green glow in a upright sheet. A shimmer grew for a moment, spreading out in a circle of moving light. Kris moved her hand to rest palm up on the table underneath the light, closed her eyes, and remembered the face of Tristan. A man appeared in the shimmer, a man with blonde hair and blue eyes so vivid in color as to match a sapphire. His hair was long and thick, a braid starting in the hair in front of the ear on each side and curving around, then braided out to the end. The man was tall, strong, and looked ferocious. He carried a huge broadsword and a bow on his back. Even though his face was bloodied and his hair longer, the man was almost an exact image of Achilles.

Achilles stared at the picture, entranced for a moment, till Kris closed her hand. The image and light disappeared.

"Yes, I think he could be your brother," Kris said simply. All was silent for a moment, Alcaeus amazed at the magic and Achilles amazed at the image.

"Well," the hulking blacksmith finally coughed out. "The only real question left is for you, Achilles. What are you going to do?"

_**Hmmm. 1:10 AM, a summary, Algebra 2 lesson, and government worksheet left to complete before bedtime. **_

_**It's all worth it. **_

_**A Lady in the Golden Wood **_


	10. Coal

Dark mauve clouds drifted across the pale-blue evening sky, blocking the early-evening stars and casting a shadow over the land below. The heavens were littered with stars of significance, and stars without any purpose at all; stars that had been speaking for thousands of years, and stars that had seen less than a decade. But only the trained eye could see these differences. To a casual observer, the skies were peace and wonder, glory and tradition and honor and beauty all rolled into one.

The land below was a different matter.

Black was the ground, burnt with a hundred different kinds of fire, marked with the spells of witches and the magic of mages, and filled with the blood of East and North. The earth was pitted with holes left by tree-stumps whose roots had been pulled from the ground before the fateful battle that had taken place on this gloomy ground; these holes were half-full of clear rain water that reflected the starry sky in a dim sort of way. Long before, the battle-fields had been cleared of corpses and their weapons. There had been no wounded to remove.

Standing in the center of the grisly field was a figure wrapped in a black cloak. Small and slight, the woman's long, black curls blew in the Northern breeze. The tips of her hair were matted together with dried blood; a streak of it marked the white skin of her chin and forehead.

She stood extremely still, her eyes closed, harsh face empty and calm. Her body swayed slightly; she moved her feet a little bit apart to keep her balance more easily, but did not open her eyes.

Three years ago, this empty plain had been a great forest. In fact, it'd been called the Forest of the North. Underneath its trees were animals of all sorts, uncountable hamlets and single dwellings, and undergrowth that could keep a hundred scientists busy for their entire lives. The forest had been the part of the Northern Kingdom, a deep part that was not easily forgotten.

Coal specialized in fires.

She finally opened her blood-red eyes and smiled. Ah. She absolutely loved the smell of the dead earth saturated with the blood of the fallen. She inhaled deeply, and a calm smile appeared on her face. Coal loved her handiwork.

The witch made her way across the pit-marked field towards a smile fire near the far-away tree line. The moisture left in the earth after the hard rain dried up as she drew nearer; black dust rose around her booted feet. These feet got closer to the edge of a particularly large pit filled with a large amount of clean water. Coal stopped at the edge.

She'd never liked her reflection. The men did, but Coal always cursed those who complimented these weak features. Beauty was nothing but weakness. Coal laughed at those witches who tried to keep their faces pretty. Better to have strength than beauty.

Corded hands appeared from underneath the black cloak and wrapped themselves around her arms. Coal was cold. She was often cold in the North.

_But not for much longer. Once I've killed the Thorn, this place will burn easy_.

Coal sighed deeply and stared down at the dim face in the water, willing it to turn into another.

_All this time, they think I've been after that Firebright_, she thought sourly. _Sure enough, I'd love to burn her. And that King's daughter, of course. But it's the old one I want_.

The face in the water slowly shifted, smooth white skin turning into a rough tan and wrinkles, jeweled lips going pale, blood streaks disappearing, chin shortening, forehead growing higher, black hair dropping off and turning white, and blood-red eyes turning midnight blue.

_Yes, Whitethorn_, Coal hissed inwardly. _Yes, old one. We will meet again, soon enough_. The image in the water did not react, but Coal had known it wouldn't.

"Damn it," she hissed anyways, kicking dirt into the water. Coal couldn't even picture a scared Whitethorn. She'd never seen the Thorn afraid, stupid, or worried. The idea of her being rock was so entrenched in Coal's mind that whenever she pictured Whitethorn, the woman was always the farthest thing from scared that there is.

_Why?_ she raged. _The old woman knows I'm going to kill her. How come she hasn't given into fear yet?_

Coal felt something odd in her own chest, something that threatened to overcome her resolve. After nearly fifty years as a witch, Coal had never experienced anything she was afraid of. But the thought of Kristin King's Daughter and Flame Firebright, united under the leadership of Maude Whitethorn, was enough to do the trick.

_But soon, you'll have nothing to fear_, she told herself reassuringly. It did not bother her to admit her fear. It was obvious, and it was very much like Coal to submit to the obvious. By submitting, one could begin plans for revolt.

_Yes, their fearless leader will be gone soon_, she thought. _Even if this plan goes wrong, Whitethorn will have to die_. She settled in next to the dying fire. The flames slowly began to grow, igniting the ashes and rising into the sky. _It's far past time, too. That old woman's stage was years ago. She's been running from death as long as I have. But she won't be able to move next time she feels that hot breath on her heels. The next time, I'll be there to hold her in place as that hound closes his teeth around her_.

Coal smiled grimly at this thought. Maybe a brush with death was just what she needed to get her powers back to fighting condition.

_** Yippie!**_

_**A Lady in the Golden Wood**_


	11. Developments

**_"Look, listen to my voice/If you're making the choice tell all the girls and the boys/either scream or rejoice, let's make that noise/Either move of we well all be destroyed/Move and show me what you can do/when you step into the circle and shake like we do/move when you just can't take it/and move when you just feel like breaking it."_**

**_-Move, by TFK_**

**_My older brother used to love TFK -- Thousand Foot Krutch, if you don't know the lingo -- and he's home tonight, so I had to listen to them in his honor. I feel like I should always give some sort of tribute to the music I listen to while I write. it would be twice as sucky as it is now if I didn't have a soundtrack. _**

**_A Lady in the Golden Wood_**

The silence was unbearable. It filled every corner of the shady room and muffled the distant sounds from the streets. It wrapped itself around Kristin's head, making her ears buzz and eyes droop. Something was pulling at her conscious, a small yet consistent tug that made her want to fall asleep.

"I'll be back," Kris announced, standing from the bench and swinging one leg over the wood.

"What-"

"You have nothing to worry about," Kris assured Achilles, grabbing her knives and backing away from the table before he could restrain her. "I won't be going anywhere until I have your answer." She moved towards the door as she slung the leather straps over her shoulders. "Maybe you can make your decision easier when I'm out of your way."

"Where will you go?" Achilles asked warily, tensing for movement.

"No where," Kris said, then changed her mind. "Maybe I'll walk around the city for a bit."

"Stay out of the south streets, if you can," Alcaeus advised her. "You never know what you might find down there."

"Of course," Kris laughed. "I'm not entirely defenseless, you know." She winked, something she hadn't done in a very long time, and left the dark room. The fresh air and sunshine was enough to banish the drained feeling that had taken up residence in Kristin's limbs, but did nothing to the detachment she felt. She walked around the corner of the house till she stood in front of the smithy, facing the road. It was empty and dusty, just another gold-brown canal in this sandy city. There had to be hundreds of them that all looked exactly the same.

_Not exactly interesting enough to keep me awake_, Kris thought to herself. _At least, not right now. _She debated it for a moment, still staring at the at the empty street. Her sight grew black around the edges; she shook her head, making it worse, then took a few steps back and sunk down against the warm wall.

Head between her legs, Kris took a deep breath, thinking to clear her mind. But the intake of warm air simply made her sight darker. _Hmmm_. In the middle of trying to remember how much sleep she'd gotten the night before, Kris let her mind wander after that small, insistent tug.

The next sensation she felt was cold. Cold; a soft, plush material underneath her; and a tightness of skin on her forehead.

"You've got to be freaking kidding me," she moaned, refusing to open her eyes.

"Thank God," someone said matter-of-factly near her head. Kris frantically searched her mind for the memories that had returned, horrified to think that her purpose might have disappeared again, leaving her as a shell of what she should be. _Kristin, Carbrian's daughter of the North. Kristin, sent by Maude, to find Achilles and bring him north. Kristin, whose brother is Conrad, best friend Flame, protector Tristan_.

"Kristin?"

"Yes, thank the gods, I still am," she said, finally opening her eyes to the brightness of Base One.

Kris sat up and came face to face with Mark. It took a moment for his face to register. She'd always thought her cousin would have been a better jock than a nerd, with brown hair that was always dropping in his hazel eyes, an impish smile that could be cute if you weren't annoyed with him, and the build of an athlete. Maybe if he'd been a little nicer to her, she would have told him so, but for some reason, she'd never had much time in which to compliment Mark.

Three worlds. North, South, and the Base world. _Somehow, I don't think Maude understood what she was really doing_.

"You don't look too much the worse for wear," Mark said conversationally.

"Well, you haven't tried taking me off the network yet, have you?" she asked.

"No, I haven't." Kris nodded, still looking into his eyes, then looked past him. No one else was nearby. "Well, aren't you a wonderful little genius."

"Definitely not wonderful," Mark said, "but you are allowed to call me a genius." He lifted a hand to Kristin's forehead, pressing his hand against her skin and suction cups. "Feeling okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, smiling a little. "Sort of confused, but otherwise I'm doing good." She scowled as Mark brushed her hair back from her face. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"Kris, it's been two days," Mark said, scowling back.

"Exactly," she replied. "Two days is like, a few minutes."

"Kris, it's been two days _here_."

"No, it was two days in _Greece_."

"No, it's been, like, five months in Greece," Mark said, his scowl deepening.

"Well, something's gone wrong with the time machine, because it has only. Been. Two. Days." Kris rolled her eyes, but she was starting to worry. How am I going to explain this to him?

"Kris, do you feel alright?" Mark asked.

"I'm fine," she said, a wave of unease rolling across her mind. "But I've got to explain some things to you," she added on impulse, a spur of the moment decision.

"Oh no," Mark groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Listen," Kris snapped, "nothing from you, okay?" She glared at him, and Mark stared through his hair back at her. Something poked at her memory, some recollection of having seem him somewhere else, not in this world. "Mark," she said softly.

_"Mark!" _

_The command was shouted across the field; as one, the trainees lifted their bows and took aim. A heart-beats time after the call was made, arrows thudded simultaneously into a row of targets across from the fighters. The tall man beside me was my father, and the tall man beside him was an emissary from the West. _

_"We understand what the East is doing," the ambassador was saying. We three were walking along the edge of the field towards a group of horses near the road. The ambassador was travel-weary; he looked as if he'd been on the road for days without much rest. "But we have received no word from Lady Kirifna on how we must act. As you know, we can make no moves with our army until the Princess says we must." _

_"I understand," my father said, hiding very well the disappointment he must have felt. "Of course." _

_"But I have not come entirely in vain," the man continued. "With me are our sorcerers who have determined to come to your aid. The Western Sorcerers have been harassed by Coal and her witches for years. These are the ones who want to take part in her downfall." _

_We'd reached the group by the road. Fourteen people stood up straight and faced us. _

_"These are our best," the ambassador said proudly. "They have pledged themselves to serve you, King Carbrian." As my father did, I searched the faces of these Western Sorcerers. Five were men above the age of twenty, and my interest remained low. Six were women of the same age, and my gaze passed over them. One was an old man. One was a teenage boy. _

_And one was Flame Firebright, no more than four years my senior_.

As Kris remembered these events, it wasn't Flame's face that stuck in her memory. It was the face of the teenage boy.

The face of the man in front of her.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, jabbing a finger in Mark's chest.

"Well, you did only see me that once," he said, shaking his head with a sad sort of smile. "I didn't expect you to even remember."

"Maude does know about this, then," Kris mused. She felt overjoyed. Here was someone who would help her. Here was someone who understood what she must do.

"Maude sent me," Mark said simply.

"Then can you explain something to me?" Kris asked, swinging her legs over the side of the pad into a more comfortable sitting position. "What is this place?"

"This place," Mark said quietly, "is simply part of the South." Kris stared at him.

"Impossible," she finally said. "Absolutely impossible."

"The South has remained unexplored for thousands of years," Mark continued. "It stretches further than the North, West, and East combined. There are places that no human was ever gone, and there are times that no one has ever lived in. This is simply one of those places and one of those times."

"Amazing," Kristin breathed. "And to think that they have no idea."

"Only few do," Mark esaid. "No one is ever told about it unless it's necessary. A few people do know, though. Maude, for example. Also, Flame Firebright. Possibly Galmoun of Stone Hill."

"Does Tristan know?"

"Possibly." Mark shrugged. "But this isn't important at the moment," he continued. "I have a message for you from Maude."

"Have you been holding onto this message for sixteen years?" Kris asked suspiciously.

"My orders were to wait until you showed signs of remembering," Mark stated. "But you never did. I meant to send you into the Greek part of the South, hoping to jog your memory, but it was always blocked until roughly three days ago. The moment I found out I could send you, I did."

"Hmmm."

" 'Hmmm' indeed," Mark joked. "Our entire plan was almost ruined by that little setback."

"What is the message?" Kris asked abruptly.

"From Maude Whitethorn, to her student Kristin, King's Daughter. Greetings. I need you to hurry up and get on with it." Mark chuckled to himself after he repeated these words. "As you know, Coal has been disabled by Flame for the time being-"

"Wait," Kris snapped. "I didn't know that."

"You didn't?" asked Mark. "Huh. You'll have to ask Flame about that. I've no idea how she did it, only that she did. There's a rumor that it had something to do with burning the fire out of Coal, but that sounds sort of oxy-moronic to me." He took a breath and continued with the message.

"-and we need to act while she is down. If Achilles agrees, start heading North. A transport party will meet you as soon as possible. If Achilles does not agree, get out of there. He might try to detain you in the South if you don't move fast enough." Mark grinned. "Remember, even if he is crucial to our success, that doesn't give him a right to overstep his boundaries. Don't let him take the upper hand at any time." Mark cocked his head to one side, ending the message. "Does he look like Tristan?"

"Oh yeah," Kris said, smiling. "Enough that they could be twins." Mark laughed.

"Will he say yes?"

Kristin's smile faded. Troubled, she looked into Mark's eyes.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I…I'm afraid he won't be willing." Mark nodded solemnly.

"I agree with Maude," he stated. "As soon as he says no, if he does, get out of there, before the Southern gods can get a whiff of you." Mark stood up, scowling. "The East has its Witches, the North has its Mages, the West has its Sorcerers, but the south has not a trace of a magic people. It angers the gods." He looked at Kristin sharply. "Stay away from them," he advised.

"Where is everyone else?" Kris asked, looking around the room.

"Oh, main center," Mark said lazily. "I'm leaving this copy of you plugged in for effect," he said. "They won't be able to mess with your conscious once you're back in the North, and I'm pretty sure they can't do anything with you right now either."

"And you won't pull me back?"

"I'm only here for a few more days," Mark said happily. "Then it's back home." His eyes shone with longing. "I can't wait to get back to the North," he confided in Kris.

"Neither can I," she murmured. "So send me back South. The sooner I finish there, the sooner I can get home."

"Agreed," Mark said, grinning. His eyes sparkled underneath his hair. "Once we're both home," he told Kris as he began work on her computer, "I'll apologize properly for the monster that I've been to you."

"Agreed."

There was that tug again.

"I'll sort of miss it," she said to herself as she laid down.

"What?" he asked, looking at her sideways.

"This place," she admitted. "The people. This tug at my mind." Mark's smile fell away; his shoulders drooped a little.

"I understand," he said. "It's going to be…difficult, even though I want to return." Kris, surprised, resisted the pull a little longer and rolled over on her side.

"Did you ever like Macy back?" she asked, a small smile on her face.

"Go to Greece," Mark mumbled, turning pink.

"Tell her before you leave," Kris requested. "Explain all of this to her."

"I'll try," Mark said, turning away from her. Kris suspected that this would be even harder than he was letting on. But her eyes were falling shut, and…she was cold.

_Ahhh. Greece is so very warm_.

Kris opened her eyes and lifted her head, relaxing into the warm air around her. But there was a shadow blocking out the sun, a shadow who knelt down in front of her.

"You could just tell me if you're tired," Achilles informed her reproachfully. Kris yawned and stretched her arms out in front of her. She shrugged.

"Have you decided what your answer will be?" she asked abruptly

"What will we do if I say yes?" Achilles asked.

"We'll head North," Kris said. "A group of people to help you get from South to the North will meet up with us as soon as they can."

"And in the North?"

"I don't know," Kris said honestly. "It will probably start with a lot of meetings, though."

"And if I say no?" Achilles said.

"I'll go North by myself." Kris shrugged again, suddenly aware of how alone they were, how close he was to her, and how warm it really was.

"If I don't allow that?" His blue gaze was piercing, and he didn't take his eyes off hers.

"Then I'll leave without your permission," Kris said softly. Achilles stared at her, face hard, silent. Kris looked up into his face, hoping he'd relent, hoping desperately that he'd say yes. The silence stretched on; her hair blocking part of her face, Kristin kept her eyes on Achilles. _Come on, please, come on_.

"You won't stay with me in Greece," he said softly. Kris nodded. "Than I'll have to go North with you."

All was silent as she absorbed what he said. Then, a joy Kristin hadn't felt since she was a young child rose up inside of her. Laughing, she leaned forward and pulled Achilles into a hug.

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you," she said happily. Achilles, startled, didn't move for a moment; then he slid his arms forward and returned the embrace.

"You're welcome," he said superiorly; he nuzzled her hair back and kissed her cheek softly.

Kris jerked back suddenly, as if only just realizing what she was doing. The look of her face made Achilles laugh; he stood up and reached a hand down to help her to her feet.

"Don't act so startled," he said as he pulled her up. "It's what men and women do, you know." Face pink, Kris snorted.

"When they're not at war, you mean." She brushed the dust off herself to avoid looking at him. "And not to the King's daughter," she mumbled under her breath.

"Hmmm?"

"Nothing. Do you have anything you need to do before we leave?"

"A little," Achilles said, somewhat sarcastically.

"Well, lead the way," Kris said. He didn't move. "Achilles," she sighed. "What now?"

"You never did let me finish," he said slowly. _That long pause didn't signify and end to your speech? Oh, forgive me, please_. "I will go North with you. But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" Kris asked warily, instantly on her guard.

"In no scenario will I be ordered to leave you, or you to leave me," he stated. Kristin opened her mouth to respond, realized she had no words to say, and closed it again.

"_What?_" she finally settled with. Achilles looked at her a moment, then started laughing. "Oh," she said, relieved. "You're joking."

"No," Achilles laughed, "but we'll have to discuss it later.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well Maude? We're ready."

"One moment," Maude snapped, her eyes scanning the scrap of parchment in her hands. Whatever was in there seemed to be to her liking; she smiled as she tucked the paper in an inner pocket. "Well," she said gruffly. "I'm sending you two to the only road near Mt. Olympus. The area is so saturated with the residue of the gods that it won't be difficult. But I warn you -- get out of there as quickly as possible." She eyed Flame and Tristan, annoyed, as Tristan whispered something in Flame's ear. She responded with a giggle. "Are you listening?" Maude barked. They nodded without looking at her.

"Relax, Maude," Tristan said breezily. "We've done this before, you know." Agathon, sitting near Tristan's feet, yowled.

"Absolutely right," Maude snapped. "Pay attention to your surroundings. Find Kristin and get out of there."

"We will!" Flame said.

"Well, join hands," Maude commanded. "Tristan, you'll need to hold the cat." Swiftly, the panther turned and leaped at Tristan; just as quickly, he lifted his arms to catch him. Tristan grunted, but said nothing else. The panther curled around his neck and purred loudly; Flame and Tristan joined hands. "Now, concentrate on Mt. Olympus," Maude ordered. "Well, concentrate on the road ten miles south of Mt. Olympus." Tristan nodded shortly, and three dutifully closed their eyes and concentrated. Maude waited a moment, then pointed her heavy staff at the small group and closed her eyes. Her voice came out in a low rumble that was surprisingly clear.

"With the power you've placed in me

dearest Goddess, take these three.

Place them where their desire lies;

to that place, have them fly.

For you alone are ruler here

and your decision takes them there."

Maude spoke no other word; she felt a flash of heat emanate from the rock at the top of her staff, and a bright light shone for less than a moment. When she opened her eyes, the trio was gone.

_Good thing too_, she thought as she polished the stone of her staff with her cloak. _Those two! Gods, you'd think they were the first couple to be in love_. Maude sighed, gave the stone one last rub, and turned towards the stone castle on the rock hill behind her. Though she stared at the stone towers for quite some time, her mind was in another place, with another person.

_Oh Lady_, she thought, _let her succeed in this. Let your blessing be enough to bring her home_. _Let your blessing be enough to bring them all home_.


	12. The Escort Arrives

"Patroclus-"

"Achilles, I've been by your side since childhood," Patroclus said, interrupting his cousin easily, as if he did it every day. He spoke calmly, his face and voice betraying nothing of what he was feeling. "You can send me away if you truly wish that, but you'll still have your men to contend with. _They _won't be so easy to get rid of."

"My word is their law," Achilles said harshly.

"Of course, Achilles," Patroclus said, a faint smile on his face. "Your word is their law…but you are their religion. We all know that they would rather break the law than renounce their religion. They'll follow you no matter where you go."

"Agamemnon will need them to win this war."

"Agamemnon will be better off without them if they are leaderless," Patroclus countered.

"Patroclus," Achilles said firmly, "I may not be coming back."

"Well, everyone knows that you'll die if you stay here," Patroclus said cheerfully. "Instead of spending the years in a tedious battle with the Trojans that will end in tragedy, let's head North. Kristin, just how cold does it get?"

"We spend nine months in snow," Kristin answered, smiling at Patroclus. "I don't think you'd enjoy it."

"Nonsense," he snapped, continuing his sorting of small labeled bottles into reed baskets. "I love snow."

"There's a lot of customs that will seem barbaric to you," she continued. Patroclus raised his eyebrows.

"You mean ours don't seem barbaric to you?" Kris stifled a laugh. Achilles shot her a look that said clearly, _Keep trying_.

"There's dangerous animals everywhere," she said lamely, still trying not to laugh. Patroclus waved a hand in her direction as if pushing the thought away. "And more magicians."

"If they're all as wonderful as you, dear Kristin, I may never leave." He smiled gallantly; Kris snorted.

"Oh, they're wonderful," she said. "Just wait till you get a sight of the Eastern Witches. If you don't have nightmares now, you will when you see what Coal's done to my country. You want to know how you become a witch of her power?" she asked conversationally.

"Enlighten me, dear one," Patroclus said, smiling happily.

"You send a prayer to the eastern god of war, who is also their main god. If he favors you, he'll send a spirit of his down to your side. To invite the spirit inside, you must slit your gut open after making a human sacrifice." Patroclus' smile started to fade. "Then you must remove your inner organs and replace them with precious stones or valuable metal that have been heated in the sacrificial fire and bathed in the blood of the sacrifice. If the spirit thinks you performed well, it'll heal the wound and take up residence inside you, giving you tremendous power." Patroclus just looked at her. "You see, they aren't all as wonderful as I am."

"But you see, wonderful magician, I have faith in you," Patroclus said, regaining his cheerful outlook after a long moment. "Faith in you, love for my cousin, and my own happy stupidity will be enough to get me through." Despite his words, Patroclus did not have a stupid look in his sharp sea-green eyes.

"Oh, don't try to fool me," Kristin said lightly. "I know that you're the brain of the operation while Achilles is the brawn." While Patroclus laughed, Achilles simply raised an eyebrow.

The three of them stood inside a canvas-walled tent that had been pitched against the ship for Achilles while they were docked in Meliboea. Patroclus had been busy since they'd docked, sorting medicines and searching for the local herbs he needed to complete his kit. Though trained as a warrior, it was the training that any Greek child received. Patroclus' specialty was healing. While he had nothing on Maude Whitethorn, he knew more herbs and medicines than anyone Kristin had ever met. The tent was lit by a glass lantern set on the wooden table on which Patroclus was sorting bottles; it shone brightly through the darkness of the clouded night.

"So since I am his brain," Patroclus said cheerfully, "well, I'll simply have to come along then, won't I?"

"It's up to Achilles," Kris said truthfully. An image of Patroclus, vivid eyes empty and glazed in death, his body burned in the witch's fire, filled her mind. _I'd rather you not_, she added mentally, cringing. "I think he does a fine job of functioning brainless," she said absentmindedly, pulling the cloak Achilles had lent her tighter around her shoulders; for some reason, the usually warm night air was turning chilly. Patroclus laughed again; Achilles raised his other eyebrow.

"Was that a compliment?"

"If it was, it wasn't one to be proud of," Kris said grimly. Achilles' eyes narrowed as Patroclus laughed yet again.

"He's really not stupid," he said through his laughter. "Just stubborn."

"Of course," Kris said, nodding. She began pacing, only half aware of what she was saying. "From my point of view, it would be stupid of him to refuse the help of his warriors and yourself." Patroclus yawned as he nodded. "But stubborn Achilles cares too much about the lot of you to drag you into an unknown danger." Kris looked towards the door of the tent. It hung straight and did not move; there was no wind, not even a breeze.

_ Then how is that smell spreading? _

Patroclus yawned again.

"I've been up too late," he stated. "Achilles, think about what we've said before you make your final decision."

"I'll think, cousin," Achilles stated, "but do not expect a new answer."

"Course not," Patroclus said drowsily. Kris looked at Achilles, but he showed no sign of fatigue. _Of course. If he's like Tristan, he'll be immune to all magic_.

"Patroclus, wait," Kris said as he moved towards the door. _Is that shadow from in here? Or is someone against the tent on the other side?_ "Can you… explain your labeling system to me?" she asked, moving briskly to the small table where he'd placed his reed baskets. Patroclus was drifting off on his feet; she shook his shoulder roughly. "Please?" Kris shot a meaningful look towards Achilles, then at the dim outline against the canvas. Achilles' eyes narrowed.

"Me as well," he said. He joined Kris at the table, on the other side of Patroclus.

"Well you see," the half-asleep man said, "it's rather simple. You write the name of the…"

"What is it?" Achilles asked softly, looking at Kris. Patroclus droned on, unaware that Achilles had even spoken.

"Some sort of magic," Kris said, her voice even softer. "I'm going to knock the lamp off the table. Once it's dark, I'll go out and see what they want."

"I'll go with you-"

"You're not a mage-"

"Well, it doesn't seem to be affecting me, does it?" Achilles hissed.

"Fine," Kris snapped.

"…and then you paste the tag on the bottle," Patroclus finished. He sounded drunk. "See, it's simple."

"But ingenious," Kris said loudly. "What about this-" She reached across the table and slammed the lamp into the sand. "Woops!" she exclaimed as darkness flooded the tent; she was already halfway to the door.

"Oh, Kristin," Patroclus laughed. "Now it's all dark." Flinging the door of the tent back, Kris drew her knives; they came out silently. Trusting her extra-keen sense of direction, Kris whirled towards the left, swinging her right blade in a high arc that stopped an inch short of the neck of a man.

"Explain," she said, her voice deadly quiet in the darkness.

"What a lovely welcome," a familiar voice drawled. "We come to rescue you and look what happens."

Almost unwilling to hope, Kris tossed the blade not pointed at the man up into the air, snapped her fingers, and caught the knife on it's downward descent. The tip of the steel began to glow with a low, white light.

"Idiot," Kris snapped. "I could have killed you."

"You know you wouldn't have," Tristan said. "You've never been able to stand up to me in battle."

"It wouldn't have been a battle if I just slit your neck!" Kris exclaimed. "Get inside, quick."

"Kris?"

"Achilles, bring her in here," she answered, barely glancing at Flame, who was backed against the canvass, Achilles' broadsword in her face. She waved her lit knife once; the light went out, and Kris replaced both her knives.

After a moment of shuffling footsteps, a few bumps, and a quite hiss of pain, Kris was confident they were all inside.

"What about a light?" Patroclus asked. The effects of the sleep spell Flame had been maintaining seemed to have worn off quickly.

"Flame?" Kris asked.

"If you'd call your male friend off, I'd be able to lift my staff and see if I can conjure something." Flame sounded irritated.

"Achilles, she's harmless." Achilles laughed.

"If we're going by your standard of harmless, I'd rather keep me sword on her." Nevertheless, he must have dropped his weapon. Flame lifted her staff and muttered a few words under her breath. The red stone embedded in the top of her heavy rod caught on fire; the tent was illuminated by the dancing orange glow.

"Agathon!" Kristin gasped. She knelt down as the cat rushed her; forehead to forehead with the panther, she breathed deep.

_ You're so weird, you know that? _

_ I love you too, cat_.

"Lovely," Flame said somewhat irately. "Are you telling me you missed that cat more than you missed me?"

"I'm currently angry at you," Kris said. "I have no grudge against Agathon."

"Angry at me?" Flame snapped. "What for?"

"Because you just scared the hell out of me," Kris snapped. Agathon growled low in his throat.

_ Should I jump on her? She always hates it when I jump on her. _

_ No, we definitely don't need her screaming right now_.

"And now you're just talking with that dumb cat," Flame snapped. "Kris, sometimes, I just can't believe you." Kris stood up, thinking to shoot something back at her, but shut her mouth at the scene in front of her.

Achilles and Tristan were staring at each other like they'd never seen a mirror. Achilles' sword was still out, held at a forty-five degree angle across his chest, the sheath and belt in his left hand. Tristan's hands were at his belt, gripping his curved sword handle tightly. Kris shot a look at Flame, who shot it straight back.

"Hello Tristan," Kris said grimly. "Did Conrad send you?"

"I volunteered," he said curtly, never taking his eyes of Achilles.

"Wonderful," Kris said. "I always did love an escort." Agathon growled again as he leaned against Kristin's legs; she could feel how tense he was.

"Escort!" Flame laughed. "We're here to take you straight home, Kris. King's orders."

"I understand," Kris replied, "but we're going to have at least one more passenger than you were counting on." Tristan finally took his eyes of Achilles.

"What?" He looked sick at the thought of what Kris was about to say.

"Tristan, Flame, meet Achilles and his cousin Patroclus." No one said a word. "Achilles has agreed to come North," Kris added gently. She did not give the reason that he'd given her; instead, she let them think he was coming for whatever reasons they desired.

_ You're joking, right?_ Agathon asked. _He shines so bright with the South sun that he'll never make it past Mt. Olympus_.

_ No, I'm dead serious_. Agathon looked up at her and showed a cat grin.

_ Maude's going to love this. Another Southern warrior for her to put up with_. The cat purred loudly. _Oh, she'll just love this_.

"Well," Tristan said shortly after a long silence. "I didn't expect this, Kristin."

"I can tell," she sighed. "Achilles, will you put your sword away? There's no danger from these three." Without looking at her, Achilles sheathed his sword, but kept the sheath in his hand.

"I'm sorry I used magic," Flame said. "We couldn't hear well enough to realize that you weren't being held captive." Straightening up, she bowed her head in Achilles' direction. This was the Western way of saying, "I was in the wrong."

"I don't blame you," Achilles assured her, taking his eyes off Tristan for a moment to glance at her. The fact that her eyes were in flames didn't seem to bother him.

"Achilles, this is my best friend, Flame Firebright," Kristin stated. Flame seemed surprised that Kris was willing to admit that they were best friends at that moment. "And this is Tristan, South's Panther. He's been my legal protector since the death of my father."

"And you sure do need it," Tristan sighed. "Tell me, Kristin. What is it about you that craves trouble when you're so terrible at getting yourself out of it?"

"Perhaps the part of me that realizes how boring your job would be if I was a good little girl," Kris said, smiling. In a second, her smile froze. She looked from Tristan to Flame and back.

The left ring finger of both her friends was decorated with the tattooed band that signified marriage.

"You did not!" Kris exclaimed. She crossed the sand in three steps and grabbed Flame's hand, causing her to drop her staff. The lights went out for a moment, but Kris hissed a word under her breath. Every stone in Flame's staff lit up, not with fire, but with an inward glow. The light confirmed Kristin's fear.

"You guys!" she whined. "I can't believe you did this!" Flame blushed and pulled her hand away roughly, bending down to pick up her staff. Kris whirled on Tristan. "How could you?" she snapped. "I leave for a few months, and the next thing I know, you two are married?" Beams of red, orange, and yellow light shone on the walls around them; as Flame twirled the staff in her hand, the effect was much like a disco-light.

"Kris, it was only yesterday-"

"I don't care!" she shouted, louder than she intended too. Patroclus looked taken back; Achilles was working hard to keep from smiling. "My best friend and my body guard get married, and I'm not even there to throw a party? How could you?" she asked again. A smile was beginning to spread across Tristan's face; he seemed to forget the presence of his older brother as he stepped forward.

"You're not angry?" he said.

"No, this is happy," Kris snapped, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, you're not angry that we're married?"

"No, you idiot!" she exclaimed. "I'm angry that you didn't wait for me, stupid!" Tristan's grin got bigger; even Achilles' smile broke free. "Stop smiling!" Kris yelled. Tristan dutifully tried to wipe the grin off his face, but he failed. "This is so frustrating," Kris hissed, holding her head in her hands.

"We'll let you throw a party when you get back if you really want to-" Tristan began, but Flame shot a look at him that was clearly code for _Shut up_. He trailed off into silence that lasted for what seemed like a long time. Finally, Kris lowered her hands and lifted her head.

"Achilles, will your men be following you?" After a moment, Achilles responded.

"I will give them that option," he stated.

"Then you can count on it," Patroclus told Kristin. She nodded once.

"And how many men are there?"

"Nearly 400," Achilles answered.

"Plus your healer," Patroclus said mildly. Achilles shot him a glare that Patroclus ignored.

"There you have it," Kris said, turning towards Tristan. He looked at her for a moment, confused. Then his eyes narrowed.

"You mean not only is he coming North, his men will be willing to follow?" He looked from Kris to Patroclus, both of whom were nodding.

"That's a good sign," Flame mused. "If your men are willing to follow you into unknown dangers, you must not be such a terrible fellow after all," she told Achilles, looking at him in a new aspect. Achilles, startled at her blunt speech, just looked at her. Kris shook her head and muttered incoherently under her breath while Tristan grinned.

"That was what I was thinking," he admitted. Then, changing the subject so abruptly that Kris knew he'd been thinking about this since he'd arrived, Tristan asked, "Have you met with Thetis lately?"

"I left her merely a fortnight ago," Achilles said calmly.

"And she has never spoken a word of me to you?"

"She did mention a full-blood brother once," Achilles said slowly, "but when pressed, she would say no more." Tristan stared at Achilles for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"She didn't much like the Northern Lady throwing her hand into her son's future," he mused. It was Kristin's turned to be startled. She looked at Tristan in surprise. Very rarely was the time when Tristan spoke of his mother, the Lady, or the prophecy that had been laid on his life. "As soon as the prophecy was made, I was given to a nursemaid, never to see her again." Tristan smiled, a faint sort of reminiscing smile. "Probably better," he said, looking at Achilles again. "I couldn't have had a harder life in the village than I would have had training with you." Achilles' eyes glittered in the strange light, but he did not speak.

"Did you bring horses?" Kris asked quickly, trying to distract the brothers. Flame, glancing from Achilles to Kris, shook her head.

"Lightfoot has gone crazy since you left," Tristan informed her seriously. As always, Kris winced at the name of her horse.

"I wish you would call her Nigala," she complained, giving the Old North word for sun. "I was only six when I named him."

"Very well, then, _Nigala _has gone crazy." Tristan laughed. "We think she's somewhere in the sea-plains right now, but no one's been able to get near enough to check."

"I can't wait to see her," Kris said, eyes shining. "I haven't ridden in months."

"Oh, poor Kristin," Flame laughed. "You know, I broke my leg the other day falling off Pearl. That horse has unlimited patience when it comes to me, but I still can't seem to stay on him." Kris laughed.

"And how you managed to fall off, I can't imagine," she said, knowing that Flame probably forgot to mention the witches who were chasing her, or the battle that she was trying to reach, or the people she was racing to save, but ignoring it. That was everyday stuff to Flame. "Pearl's a perfect horse for a rider as terrible as you."

"I've said it before, and I'm saying it now, it's only when compared to you freakish Northerners that I am a bad rider," Flame said, grinning as she shook her staff in Kristin's direction.

"Maybe only when compared to Kris," Tristan reminded her, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "After all, I don't fall off my horse every other day." Kris laughed in the middle of a yawn.

"It's late," Achilles stated when he caught sight of that.

"You're right," Kris said. "We'll be alright in here, if that's alright," she added, looking at Patroclus. Patroclus shrugged at her and nodded gently in Achilles' direction.

"I wish I could provide more comfort," Achilles said, sounding for all the world like he really didn't care. His gaze was focused on Kristin. "Kristin, may I speak with you for a moment?" Kris raised her eyebrows. _Of course. Right here, in front of my friends_. But she followed him outside the tent, glancing over her shoulder at Flame.

"Do not eavesdrop," she mouthed. Flame merely giggled.

Achilles came to a stop about ten feet from the doorway.

"Does what you have to say need to remain secret?" Kris asked quietly. Achilles looked at her, silent, and did not answer. Just as silently, Kris moved past him, not stopping till she was standing at the bow of the ship. She gazed at the dark sea, lit by the slightest sliver of moonlight, for a moment before turning to face Achilles. He stood closer than she had expected, close enough to cause her to take a step back.

"Have I your promise that you will not leave during the night?" he asked. Kris studied his face in the dim light, aware of just how much he looked like Tristan.

"Yes," she answered absentmindedly. "I traveled all this way to ask for your help, Achilles." She smiled. "Do you think I would leave without you when you've given it to me?"

"I think it's possible that you're nothing but a mad thought in my mind that will disappear when I leave your company," he admitted, stepping forward and reaching a hand down to pick Kristin's up. He held her left hand and examined her ring finger. "You're not married," he stated. "That's a relief." Kris shook her head and pulled her hand back; but Achilles held on, securing it with both his own hands.

"You're being ridiculous," Kris said. "I am not simply a part of your mind that will disappear if you let go."

"Maybe I'm not worried about letting go, but simply of letting you out of my sight," Achilles admitted.

"Tristan used to be the same," Kris laughed. "He took his job so seriously. But I am not as bad as protecting myself as you two seem to think."

"Maybe I'm not worried about what the world will do to you, but rather what you'd do to yourself," Achilles said.

"What do you mean?" Kris asked after a moment. "I'm not weak enough to kill myself for no reason." She was offended that he would suggest it.

"Hmmm?" Achilles asked. "Why is that a weakness?" _You're staling so you can keep holding my hand_.

"Since I was young, the people who felt they could no longer face the war took their own life," Kris said. "Their names are dishonored and struck from the official records. I have been taught to have no respect for these." _Even my father_.

"I'm simply worried about the prophecy you told me of," Achilles said quickly.

"Why?" Kris asked, baffled.

"'Find the brother of the leader, the one who fights with his soul beside him. When united with the giver, the force will destroy your troubles,'" Achilles quoted. "Who is the giver?" he asked. Kris did not answer; indeed, she didn't have an answer. "Because it seems to me like the prophesier must be talking about one who has given much, very much, to this war of yours."

"Compared to some," Kris said, thinking of Maude, who'd given up her retirement, and Conrad, who'd given up his sight, "I've given little."

"Only your childhood?"

"So many have given their lives," Kris replied.

"So maybe I'm worried that you're going to give yours."

"It's my duty to my country," Kris said. "I know you understand that."

"Of course," Achilles laughed. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Exactly," Kris said. "You don't. Neither does Tristan, my brother, or my army. It is still my duty, though, and the lot of you are not allowed to keep me from fulfilling my duty." She pulled her hand back again, reluctantly, Achilles released her.

"I'd still rather not let you out of sight," he complained. Kris stepped back, looked at him for a moment, and smiled.

"You know, you're one the first who hasn't contested my right to give my life," she told him. "Most others tell me it's my duty to stay alive."

"I would never challenge anyone's right to dying for their country," he said, scowling. "No matter how much I adore them," he added as an afterthought.

"You can say that now, but wait till it comes to the real thing. I've had to disobey orders to retreat in almost every battle I've been in." She sighed, shaking her head, then yawned. _I won't comment on the adoration part_.

"I'll find places for you and the others on the ship," Achilles said. "I don't want anyone sleeping on the grounds tonight. Things often get a little rowdy when the army is in port." Kris nodded absentmindedly, taking one last glance at the sea before walking back towards the tent. Achilles put his arm around her shoulders, holding her against him as they moved back towards the tent.

"I'll try not to order you to retreat," he said. "I'm guessing that once those knives are in motion, you won't be in the mood to go anywhere but forward."

"You guess correctly," Kris said, yawning again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kris hadn't been asleep long when the figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the sky. Flame watched, thankful her eyes were not burning, as Achilles stepped forward, carefully making his way across the floor to where Kris slept near the wall. He dropped down beside her, leaned his back against the wall, and gently lifted her head into his lap. She sighed and muttered something, sounding troubled. "Shhh," he whispered, stroking her hair back from her face as he cradled her head in his lap. Kris slept on, and when Flame finally dropped off to sleep, Achilles hadn't moved.


	13. A Fool's Errand

_**First snow today! Yay! I watched snowflakes fall during worship, and it was fun!** _

"You can't be serious."

Odysseus stared at Achilles like he'd just pronounced his intention to marry a commoner, have a dozen female children, and settle somewhere in the far east to make his living as a potter. Then he smiled.

"Of course you're not. This is just a practical joke." He looked from Achilles to Kris, and his smile took on a desperate edge. "He's joking."

"He's not," Kris said.

"Gods above," Odysseus gasped. His face went slightly pale. "Achilles, you'll consign us all, not to mention yourself, to death."

"I'll do no such thing," Achilles said cheerfully. "Try to have a spine, my dear friend."

"My spine feels bent in a thousand places with the weight of your news," Odysseus replied, sitting down heavily on the wooden table against the canvas wall. Achilles rolled his eyes infinitesimally and walked a bit closer to Odysseus. "Achilles, you know this will destroy Agamemnon's fragile stability. You must not proceed North. You can not simply-"

"Odysseus, yesterday I learned a have a full-blooded brother who has never know me, nor I him." Achilles was going for the plea. Kris approved. "Never known his life, his loves, his passions. It…" he broke off, looking almost heartbroken. "It spears my heart," he finished. "And now I find that this brother of mine is in threat of losing his world, his life, his beloved country. I can not let him fight alone." He knelt down in front of Odysseus, looking up with anguish-filled eyes. "I can not," he repeated. Kris nodded in approval. _Quite the actor_.

"Achilles, you know as well as I that this had nothing to do with it," Odysseus snapped. "Kristin, would you leave us for a moment?"

"Of course," she said, holding back a smile.

"Don't go far," Achilles instructed, dropping his heart-broken tone and expression for a quick second as he turned to look at her.

"How long will you be?" she asked.

"Hopefully not-"

"Long," Odysseus interrupted.

"Then I'll walk back to the ship," Kris said, turning to go.

"Alone?" Achilles asked.

"I'm sure I'll have a shadow with me," Kris said, smiling. Whether she was speaking of her literal shadow or a tail, Achilles wasn't entirely sure. But, she did not give him a long time to think about it. Kris pushed the tent flap aside and strode out into the sun. After a minute of maneuvering between the several large tents set up outside the city walls, she could see the long row of ships nearly a mile down the beach.

It was hot. The Southern sun shone down cruelly, insistently covering the entire land with its glare and heat. Kris stared at the line of hazy ships for a moment before shaking her head and starting forward.

Sure enough, an extra shadow appeared after a few seconds.

_You weren't too long_, Agathon yawned. He whacked his tail against her leg a few times_. I thought you two would be in there for hours. Conrad said the Greeks are long winded_.

_How would Conrad know?_ Kris laughed. _After all, he's never left the North_.

_He reads_, Agathon said shortly. _And he talks. And talks. And talks_.

_Understood_. They walked in silence for a moment, Kristin looking oddly unbalanced compared to the supple form of the panther. _How is he?_ Kris finally asked.

_As well as ever_, Agathon answered. _He spends more time exploring the castle, learning to travel the halls without need of a guide_.

_And the war? _

_It has been subdued_. Agathon twitched his tail irritably. _There have been a few problems with witches, but no soldiers_.

_What?_ Kris asked as she noticed the smug sound of his thoughts.

_Nothing. Just remembering my last visit with a witch_.

_Was it tasty?_

_Very_. Agathon bared his teeth in a cat grin as Kris shuddered.

It took the two nearly fifteen minutes of a slow pace to reach Achilles' ship. They found Patroclus, Achilles' second-in-command Eudorus, the soldier Cleon, Tristan, and Flame on the beach near the stern of Achilles' ship.

"Yes, but do you have formations?" Eudorus was asking. "Do your men depend on each other, or is the battlefield a free-for-all?"

"Well," Tristan said slowly, "we divide into sections." He nodded at Kris as she dropped down on the sand between Patroclus and Flame; Agathon sat beside her, leaning his shoulder into her own. "There is the army, led by the King and comprised of cavalry and infantry. Then there are the combined forces, which is an army combined of semi-trained mages and warriors, all on horseback. Then there is the mage-force, comprised all of highly-trained mages. The three forces work around each other to trap the enemy."

"But are the movements in a single force?" Eudorus asked. "Do the men have a strategy? Commanders?"

"Every hundred men are divided into a section," Tristan said. "They choose their commander, and these commanders are governed by the head of the force. These sections train together, work around each other, and learn how to work with other sections. Of course there is always a strategy," he said, a faint smile on his face. "Unless we don't have time for it."

"Often this means that the mage-force goes first, taking care of the Eastern witches, then the army and combined force will be free to move in," Flame explained. "Inside each section, the men work together to protect each other. Sections are assigned certain areas of expertise -- for example, we would put together a section comprised entirely of archers, and there job would be to, say, stay back and keep firing into the opposite force. Or we'd have a section of expert spearmen, and it would be their job to lead the charge."

"Are these sections whoever wants to enter?" Cleon asked. Patroclus glanced over at Kris and rolled his beautiful eyes, grimacing.

"Sections are legendary," she said, smiling back at Patroclus. "Any child who wishes to enter a certain section will train from the time he is young in that certain expertise. Most people choose a certain war-craft to excel in in order to have a place in a section when the war begins."

"In this way, we keep things organized," Tristan said. "And as the men choose their own leader, we don't often have any trouble with uprising in the troops."

"Hmmm," Eudorus said. "But is there no hope of working your way up?"

"Anyone who wishes for only glory is in the army for the wrong reason," Tristan said harshly. "There's only one place they can go -- back to their home." Eudorus and Cleon exchanged looks.

"It will take a long time for any Greek to get accustomed to _that_," Patroclus said cheerfully.

"Indeed," Kris said under her breath. Agathon bared his teeth in a feral grin, then collapsed to the side, rubbing his back against the sand. The three Greek men studied the cat for a moment.

"What is it?" Cleon finally asked.

"A panther," Tristan said, "with above-normal intelligence and an unreturned affection for me."

_Oh, you know you love me_, Agathon purred, jumping up on all four huge paws; shaking the sand off his slick, black fur; and leaping at Tristan with his claws sheathed.

"Cat!" Tristan snapped, dodging to the side in time for Agathon to skim against his side. Patroclus and Eudorus laughed; Cleon eyed the panther uneasily.

"Where is Achilles?" Flame asked Kristin, smiling along with the better part of the group.

"With Odysseus," she said. "I hope it wasn't wrong to leave him," she added, glancing at Patroclus.

"He'll be fine," the blonde man said casually. "I hope Odysseus doesn't convince him to stay, though. He can be so persuasive at times."

"He speaks with a god's tongue," Eudorus laughed. "But I have a feeling that no one will be stopping Achilles now."

"It will be nice for a change in pattern," Cleon agreed. "I'm weary of fighting for Agamemnon's glory."

"How long has it been?" Tristan asked curiously.

"Years," Eudorus said shortly. "Too many that have felt too long."

"Well, it will be no more," a cheerful voice said from behind them. Kris glanced over her shoulder in time to have Achilles sit down in the space between her and Patroclus. Odysseus dropped wearily to the sand beside Eudorus. "Now we fight for no one but ourselves…and the Northern Queen, of course." He bowed his head in Kristin's direction.

"Of course," Flame said, a smile lighting her eyes.

"Nothing I can say dents him," Odysseus said, staring at the sand somewhat miserably. "He seems to have acquired a new sort of armor protecting his pride."

"Certain things can do that," Achilles said, glancing at Kris. She refused to look at him.

He'd been saying things -- insinuating things -- since that afternoon with Alcaeus. Things that if Kris was some country fool who didn't understand the workings of a proud warrior's mind, she might just swoon over. But as Kris was not a country fool and understood the workings of a warrior's mind quite well, she chose to ignore his words. Achilles was very much the sort of man to speak first, then think. He was the sort of man to proclaim ever-lasting devotion without any intention of paying up. He was the sort of man, Kris decided, whose words had to be taken within a grain of salt.

"Tomorrow morning, then?" she asked, ignoring his words.

"Most definitely," Achilles said with a smile. "How do we get to the North?" he asked Tristan.

"We need only to reach Mt. Olympus," Tristan said. "A threshold to the North has been set up very near that mountain. Once we reach the door, we have only to open it and walk through."

"Well, that's a short march," Achilles said cheerfully. "If we leave in the early hours, we should be there before evening."

"Yes," Tristan agreed.

"Why, if we left by this afternoon, we could camp there," Achilles suggested.

"Not a good idea," Kris said, shaking her head. "It's important that we spend as little time as possible near Mt. Olympus."

"Why?" asked Eudorus. Achilles raised his eyebrows.

"We might not get to the North if they detect us," Flame said. "Your gods do not particularly like Northern mages."

"Why ever not?" Achilles asked. "I find them quite wonderful."

"So do your gods," Tristan said sourly. "Even more wonderful than you, perhaps, because they long to have them in their power."

"I must rephrase my statement," Flame said. "They do not like _free _Northern mages."

"That could be trouble," Achilles said slowly.

"We know," Tristan said. "That's why time is of the essence. The longer Flame and Kris are here, the more likely it is they'll be detected. If we an leave this afternoon, we could go straight through the door."

"It would be difficult to open in the dark," Flame reminded him.

"Is it ever dark for you, dearest?" Tristan asked.

"Neither Kris or I will use magic that close to Mt. Olympus," Flame said. "We don't want to risk anything, especially not with the numbers of men we will have to transfer through the door."

"Why does this seem like a fool's errand?" Odysseus asked the sand.

"Because you have no faith, dear friend," Achilles said, clasping both Patroclus and Kristin on the shoulder. "No faith in your comrades means no faith in life itself."

"My faith in life is waning," Odysseus said morosely.

_**I've got to get a move on. Don't expect to be in the South for much longer. **_

_**A Lady in the Golden Wood**_


	14. The Homecoming

**_Please forgive small typos -- typing mistakes, misue of words, etc. I want to get this posted before lateness. Youth-group on Monday, Volleyball on Tuesday, three and a half hours of band tonight -- all this on getting up at 5:30 and going to bed near midnight. Yes, I want you to be proud of me! I do not handle sleep loss well! I owe so much in sleep debt. School makes me angry. I wish I could quit and come back later on in life when learning will be my priority again!_**

**_Needless to say, sorry for the delay!_**

**_A Lady in the Golden Wood_**

Mt. Olympus was not a happy place.

Zeus was busy destroying anything and everything in sight, lightening bolt after lightening bolt zapping trees, structures, rocks, streams, gods, goddesses, and a few demigods. Hera was busy trying to placate him, but he made it difficult by destroying her form every time she attempted to come near him. Aphrodite was crying under a rock overhanging, her shining black tresses hanging over tearstained-blue eyes; Ares was furiously creating an army of stone men that would be ready to march by sunrise, muttering curses and threats under his breath; Hephaestus was busily working to arm the stone warriors, his eyes continually seeking after his mother's safety; Hermes was occupied with hundreds of messages from all the seers, priests, and oracles in Greece who wanted to know what was happening to displease the gods; and Athena was examining her actions, trying to decide what she could have done differently that would have resulted in success.

Of all the major gods, there were very few who still exhibited any sort of calm at all. In fact, there were two.

Apollo and Artemis sat together behind the throne of Zeus. For some reason, he never bothered to look there when he was searching for something to destroy. The noise the thunder-god was making was loud enough to cover the sound of ten-thousand men marching on stone streets, so they conversed without fear of being overheard.

"They just slipped right through," Artemis was telling her brother. "I don't know how a company of that size made it even ten miles from the Mount without being spied; but these mortals did."

"All mortals?" Apollo asked. His golden curls shone in the faint light emanating from his skin.

"Yes," Artemis said firmly.

"Well, if they wanted to go North, that's their business," Apollo said lightly. A bolt of energy sliced into the ground a few feet behind the throne, throwing up sprays of dirt and incinerated rock. "Why the fuss?" Apollo continued, hardly noticing.

"Because at least two of them were Mages," Artemis explained. "And by the way Hera looked at them, they must have been Justina's own."

"Oh," Apollo said. "That's what the fuss is about."

"You know Zeus proclaimed eternal riches to the first who brought him a mage," Artemis sighed. "They're all furious."

"Well, why not close the door?" Apollo asked.

"They didn't use the main door," Artemis laughed. "They'd made a new one, a few miles past it. By the time Ares and I got there, they'd all gone through. Must have been nearly four hundred soldiers."

"My, my," Apollo sighed. "I should have been here."

"Yes," Artemis laughed. "Athena is simply furious with herself. She ordered them to stop, and not one of them listened!" Artemis laughed. "But I would have loved to meet them," she said, her voice suddenly serious. "Just to speak with them."

"Justina protects her own too well," Apollo said, almost sighing. "Imagine, though, if I had a child by one. Half god, half mage…"

"Oh, brother," Artemis was laughing again. "Set your eyes on more realistic goals, please." A lightening bolt slapped the throne over their heads, sending the chair flying backwards. Both gods leaped up as Zeus roared again. Time for a new hiding place.

_Meanwhile…_

"Is the door closed?" Kris whispered. Flame listened for a moment more, her ear pressed against…empty air.

"Yes," she finally said. "Yes, it's shut."

"Thank the gods," Kris mumbled sincerely under her breath. "And Patroclus?"

"A little scorched," Achilles said, appearing at her elbow. "I'm more worried about the shock, though."

"After all, it's not often one survives a lightening bolt thrown by Zeus," Eudorus said, his voice displaying all the sarcasm he felt. Not often must have meant never.

"Well, it's not often they've got a shield set up over them, is it?" Flame snapped irritably. Tristan slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him, raising his eyebrows over her head at Kristin.

"Is this the North, then?" Achilles asked, looking at Kris like he'd like to do to her what Tristan was doing to Flame.

"I don't know where else we'd be," she said tartly. Achilles looked around again, eyes slightly narrowed.

"It's very…" Eudorus trailed off, as if he lacked words to say, then turned back to where Achilles' warriors stood, waiting for his command.

"Gold," Achilles finished for him.

Indeed, it was very, very gold. The noon-day sun shone overhead, casting rays of light down, down, down into the yellow-leaved trees below. The leaves, slightly transparent, cast golden shadows onto the brown moss underfoot. The tall, thin trees were evenly spaced, giving plenty of standing room. But none-the-less, a person couldn't help but feel like he was being drowned in an amber-colored liquid that was very, very light.

"This is the royal grove," Kristin found herself explaining. "These trees were planted around the fortress hundreds of years ago by a mage-planter named Corina. They've never lost these leaves."

"Hmmm," Achilles said. Kristin hear the doubt in his voice. "If this if the royal grove, then royalty must be near."

"Right beside you, dim-wad," Kris muttered under her breath.

"Let's go," Tristan said quickly. Flame was still leaning against him, her face pressed against his chest. Flame never handled this sort of thing well. She enjoyed fighting one on one, not in a desperate fight and not in retreat mode. "Conrad and Maude will definitely be waiting."

"Oh well," Kris said. "Let's not let that thought dampen our high spirits." She rolled her eyes; without glancing back at Tristan, she stepped forward. Achilles watched her go for a moment, his eyes slightly unfocused.

"She'd be a horror to fight under," he said aloud.

"She is," Tristan snorted. "A loner in battle, though. Doesn't like having anyone near her. Makes it difficult to protect her when she willfully puts herself in danger, but I should be happy she's so good at protecting herself."

"Hmmm," Achilles said. Kris sucked in clean, cold, Northern air, and turned to look over her shoulder.

"Are we going?" she bellowed. Tristan winched and nodded.

"Just follow her," he told Achilles as he pulled Flame into a walk.

"Follow," Achilles barked over his shoulder in the direction of his dedicated warriors. "Can Patroclus walk yet?"

"Of course I can," Patroclus said, offended. He looked none the worse for wear, but there was a certain dazed look in his eye that didn't go away when he blinked. He stepped to Achilles' side. "I am not the weakling you think I am," he assured Achilles. "And I will prove it to you soon enough."

"Just walk for now," Achilles sighed. With that, he stepped after Kristin, moving till he was equal to her. She glanced over at him, unable to hide the worry she knew was apparent in her gaze.

"You have nothing to fear," Achilles murmured. "They'll love me." Kris stared at him for a moment. The smile slipped out when he winked.

Achilles was studying her face again, and Kris wondered what he saw. She was positive that there was a bluish-purple scratch that slashed across her forehead -- Zeus' work. Her black hair was pulled half-back in a simple way to keep it out of her eyes, but she hadn't been able to secure all the short pieces. They fell in her face, swung in her mouth, and absolutely refused to stay tucked behind her ears. With any luck, she'd choke on them before they got to the fortress.

"The North suits you," Achilles said quietly. She glanced at him again, forgot to look where she planted her feet, and ended up grasping a nearby tree to keep from falling. "It brings out the colors in your face," Achilles laughed.

And the family trait of clumsiness.

They walked on in silence. Glimpses of stone began to show themselves between the trees up ahead, and Kris felt her heart-rate speed up. It had been so long since she'd been home. Now all she could think about was the reception she'd receive.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you," Achilles said calmly. Irritated, Kris sped up her pace.

"Who said I was worried?" she asked breezily, doing her absolute best to sound just peachy, thank-you.

"I read it in your movement," Achilles said. "After years on the battle-field, I'm able to read movements very well."

"I don't doubt it," Kris said, pushing a gold-lead covered branch to the side. And there it was. Straight ahead. Light gray stone walls that rose high into the pale-blue sky. Nothing could be seen over them. The walls touched the ground straight in front of them, but on every other side, they ended on the stone cliffs that surrounded most of the stronghold.

An armed guard waited at the base of the walls in front of them. Nearly a hundred strong, most carried bows that were notched and aimed towards the golden wood. Kris stepped out into the cleared ground slowly, both hands raised. Achilles came behind her, both his hands resting on his sword handle.

"Approach," a tall man on a dark roan horse called out. "No one else leave the wood." Kris swallowed hard, glanced sideways at Achilles, and shrugged.

"You probably want to stay put," she said softly. He ignored her warning and walked beside her. Though ten times more formidable looking than she, the armed guard ignored him and kept their weapons trained on Kristin.

"Kristin, King's Daughter," the proclaimed said.

"Where is my brother?" Kristin asked, standing up straight.

"He sends this message," the man said. "You are under house arrest till further notice, in which time he will see fit if it is proper to return your full freedom. Ever."

"And he couldn't deliver this himself?" Kris snarled.

"He does not trust you anytime soon and says that you are to remain locked up till he knows for certain that you will never do anything so stupid again," the proclaimer finished.

"Where is the dolt?" Kris snapped, stepping forward. "Lend me your horse, Simon."

"Milady, I can't," the man said painfully. "Orders from the king are orders from the king."

"Well, then I'll get the council to withdraw them," she said.

"Until then, Conrad declares you must be locked inside your rooms," Simon said firmly.

"Ridiculous!" Kristin said.

"Must we take you forcefully?" Simon asked.

"Of course not!" Kris snapped, eyeing the hobbled old horse stationed beside Simon. "But this is absolutely ridiculous!"

"I think it rather a good idea," Tristan said. He and Flame stood a few feet back, having ignored the order to stay in the wood. "After all, you can't engage in too much stupidity if you're locked in your room."

"I can't engage in _anything _if I'm locked in my room!" Kris shouted.

"Orders are orders," Simon stated. "Do we have to restrain you?"

"No!" she shouted. Her voice boomed against the rock walls. "Ridiculous," she snapped again as she stepped forward to mount the hobbled horse whose reins were held by Simon.

"I can't decide if this is funny or appalling," Achilles mused.

"It's funny," Tristan said.

"Shut up," Kris hissed as her hands were chained to the pommel of the saddle. "This is not funny."

"Then what is it?" Flame asked, giggling.

"Absolutely killer frustrating!" Kris yelled as Simon pulled the lead-rope of her horse after him. Standing in her stirrups, she looked back in time to see the three of them laughing.

_Damn it, Conrad_.

"Not the homecoming you expected?"

It was Flame, but Kris was too upset with her to reply. Sitting in a window seat, glaring down at the horse fields below with her sight almost hazy with anger, was not the homecoming she'd expected, but Flame was the last person she'd admit that to. Refusing to turn her head, Kris entirely ignored her.

"I've brought you a visitor," Flame continued. _It's called a cold shoulder. Get with it, Flame_. "I'm leaving now." The solid wood door swung shut with a soft click; the black glow of the door-sealant someone had stuck on there lit up the room again. Footsteps approached the window seat.

_Let it be Maude, let it be Maude-_

Achilles sat down across from her. She considered him for a moment.

_I guess he's okay_.

"I need to know what to do until you're released," Achilles stated.

"Hmmm?" Kris studied his face, looking for any trace of teasing. If there had been any…

"I have no idea what I'm here for," Achilles shrugged, smiling. "I'm simply at your command, dearest."

_Not right now_. Kris groaned. "You know perfectly well what you came for."

"Maybe I do," Achilles said. "But I'd rather not start negotiations, or whatever it is that needs to be done, without you there." He leaned back against the wall. "After all, you are the only Northerner I trust."

"Well, I'm stuck," she snapped. Having to ignore Achilles' insinuations did not improve her mood. "Unless Conrad gets over himself anytime soon, I'll be stuck in here."

"It won't be long," Achilles assured her. "I've been putting on a wonderfully imbecilic front that has them all wondering if I'm capable of human speech. They'll need you to translate for me in no time." Kris smiled a little.

"That I'd like to see," she said.

"I have a few questions," he said.

"Fire away." Kristin yawned and leaned her head against the stone windowsill.

"You once led the armies of the North, correct?"

"I led them very badly, but I did lead." Achilles pulled his legs up onto the seat and sat cross-legged across from her.

"But you were very young, then, weren't you?" he asked. "Not more than thirteen."

"Fourteen," she corrected.

"How does a fourteen year old lead an army in battle?" Achilles asked, frowning.

"She does her best," Kris said with a shrug. "But I am not a good leader. Period. No matter what age."

"How did advisors allow it? After all, you were just a child." Achilles' eyebrows narrowed.

"I was no longer a child," Kris said softly. "Childhood is very much an element of the mind. A six-year old that has seen as much as an old woman can be of a very close mental age. I saw many things, and I was a part of many things. At the age of fourteen, I was as capable of leading as I ever would be."

Achilles was silent for a moment. Kristin returned her gaze to the window.

"Why would you brother not agree to rule?"

"He is very self-conscious of his blindness," Kris stated. "He did not want the North to have an unstable ruler."

"Is he unstable?"

"He's far more stable than I am," Kris said with a laugh. "I hope to convince him to become King when this war is over. I'd be a worse queen than I am a commander."

"I agree," Achilles said. "Queen-ship would not suit you."

"Thanks for your support," Kris laughed.

"You treasure your freedom far too much," Achilles added. "Queens usually end up giving far more than they take."

"Good queens," Kris corrected.

"Good queens," Achilles agreed.

They were silent again. After a while, Kris glanced at Achilles to see him watching the door uneasily. _I guess the glow would take a lot to get used to_.

"Don't worry about the door," she said. "In fact, it would be good for you to get used to it. You'll see this sort of thing all over the place in the North."

"It's not really the door I'm worried about," he said. "It's the idea that one such as you can't break free of the door. See," he said, turning to her again, "we have restraints. We have guards, chains, ropes, doors. But they are physically possible to break through. There's nothing someone like me or my men can do against this magic."

"But you're a lucky one," Kris said. "Because there's nothing the magic can do to you either." She leaned forward. "There's something about you and Tristan," she said. "Magic doesn't effect you. Mages like me, we can put up shields. It's so basic that we do it automatically. But you and Tristan don't need shields." She sat back, a triumphant grin on her face. "Coal _hates _Tristan. She can never touch him. Her fire has no effect."

"Interesting," Achilles mused.

"I'm guessing it's your mother's blood in you," Kris said. "It would make sense."

"Indeed," he said. Kris realized he wasn't exactly paying attention to what she said, so she stopped speaking until he decided to listen again.

A long silence ensued. After tiring of the view out the window, Kris turned her gaze to the rest of the room. It had been her room since she was a young child -- windows with wide, padded sills that faced the fields; thick carpets covering the cold stone floor; a large desk on one wall; a bed built in a cranny in another wall with curtains that hung down to block it; a large stuffed chair and small couch near the windows; and a corner filled with book-cases, wooden trunks, and piles of papers that were covered in a thin, spindly script. It felt like it had been years since she'd been there, while in reality, she'd been no more than five months from home.

It looked exactly like she'd left it; Kristin was the one who'd changed.

"Do the people like Tristan?" Achilles asked, breaking her out of her daydreaming.

"Sure," she said absentmindedly, looking up at the smooth stone of the ceiling.

"Do they follow him because they must, or because they want to?" he persisted.

"Most of the men have given him their loyalty," she said, looking at him. "They follow him with trust."

"Then why am I here?" Achilles asked roughly. "So far, I could have been of more use in the South." _Of more use, or more appreciated? _

"I don't know what's going on," she said. "I've been away from home for so long that I don't know anything that's been happening." Before she was done speaking, the door to her room swung open. In stepped a white-eyed Conrad, silent Nancy, wrinkly-faced Maude, grumpy Flame, and some-what sullen Tristan.

"Let's fix that, then," Conrad said. His voice was empty of emotion. He faced Kristin exactly, even without sight. Slowly, she stood and faced him, her jaw clenched.

_Do not get angry now, do not get angry now. Do. Not. Get. Angry. Now._

_**Ho hum. Is it sleep-time yet? **_

_**I love Mute Math! Amazing musicians**._


	15. Doubts

"Well, you tried," Kris mumbled to herself as the door slammed shut. "You really did try." She threw the last pillow at the door for good measure; it bounced off harmlessly, landing with a small thump on the stone floor. "Damn it," she breathed, clenching her hands into fists. "Damn. It."

_"If you can't speak to me without resorting to harassment, you obviously need some more time alone," Conrad said huffily. _

_"Harassment?" Kristin laughed. "Oh, forgive me, your majesty." She bowed low; Maude sighed loudly and glared at her. "I wasn't aware I was offending milord. Please…forgive me." _

_"Kristin, I'll speak with you when and only when you owe up to what you've done." And Conrad turned, walking towards the door as easily as if he could see it. _

_"What I've done?" Kris yelled. "Are you even kidding me?" The first pillow went flying towards the retreating king. "What I've done is bring back hope, Conrad, hope! You're the one with the problem here." Flame shot a glare in her direction as she exited closely after Nancy. "And you!" Kris exploded, chucking another pillow. "What the hell is this, hate Kristin day?" Maude didn't even look at her as she followed Flame. That hurt the most. Her own teacher wouldn't even talk to her. "You'd think I'd gone out and painted anti-royalty slogans on the walls!" _

_"Lay off, Kris," Tristan whispered as he followed the procession. "He's as angry as you are." _

_"I'll show you freaking angry!" Kris snapped. But the door closed, and there was no longer any prey in her pillow sights._

"I should probably be going, then."

Kris looked up, a yelp half-way to her mouth before she realized it was just Achilles. He hadn't said a word the entire time, and Conrad had not acknowledged him.

"Probably, yeah," she said, distractedly running a hand through her hair. If possible, this only made her feel worse.

"After all, someone's got to see that they let you out of here before you die of old age," he said with a barely concealed grin.

"Shut it," Kris sighed. She crossed the room and dropped down on the window seat again.

"And I do need to talk with Eudorus and Patroclus," he added. "Make sure my men are settled in."

"Sure thing," Kris said. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes.

"It's getting dark."

"Indeed." She yawned. Achilles rose without speaking, pressed a hand against her hair gently, then exited.

Damn. It.

Two days passed.

"What's going on?" Kris asked, trying to sound as bored as possible.

"Absolutely nothing," Flame would reply breezily. Kris knew she was lying by the charred tips of her friend's hair.

Four days.

"What is going on?" Kris asked, letting her worry show.

"We're trying to catch the fabled golden deer," Tristan said cheerfully. "It's been sighted in the remains of the Old Forest." Kris knew he was lying by the creased lines of his forehead.

A week.

"What's going on?" Kris asked, practically shouting in her frustration.

"The King is developing a taste for pine nuts," Maude said, barely controlling the quirk of her lips.

"I'm going crazy, I swear."

"Nonsense," Maude said. "Until I hear nothing but nonsense coming from your mouth and see nothing but emptiness behind those lovely green eyes, I won't believe you."

"Maude-"

"We're working on your staff," she said. "Nothing more momentous than this."

Kris knew she was lying because she knew Maude, and there was always something much bigger than staff making going on in Maude's life.

"Can you tell me anything new?" Kris asked desperately.

_No…sorry…nothing new…maybe later…_

"It's not like they've never disobeyed the King before!" Kristin raged, pacing furiously around the room. "If I'm a criminal, why haven't they given me a trial? This is ridiculous."

"He's just trying to make a point," Patroclus said easily, nose still buried in a book of Northern lore and medicine.

"He's made it!" Kris exclaimed. "A thousand times over!"

"I'll tell him you said that," Achilles said from his usual seat at the window.

"Please do," Kris said, to frantic to deny it any more. "He made his point after day one."

"Hmmm," Patroclus said, closing the book over his thumb. "Kristin, what was his point?"

"He's angry with me and thinks that I was disrespectful and foolish," she snapped. "He believes that it was stupid of me to leave and especially wrong because I didn't ask _permission_."

"And?" prodded Patroclus.

"He wants me to apologize," Kris said, breathing out loudly. "But how am I supposed to apologize if he won't give me the chance?"

She sat in the window seat alone later that night, her forehead pressed to the glass. A quarter-moon shone dimly through a dusting of clouds, casting shadows on the wide expanse of grass and stone two stories down. The light refused to penetrate into the castle; the room inside was black and hidden. A few horses slept near the western edge of the rock-surrounded meadow; if the window would open, Kris would have been able to hear them breathing. It was that quiet in the royal rooms.

She didn't think it would be possible for her to read more books. A scholar of hands-on-experience, not written-down instructions, Kristin had never liked reading. She tolerated it for the sake of learning, but never for pleasure.

_That's because you've never had any really good books_, Maude used to tell her. _Just wait till I get you to a Western library. All the books in the North are dry information. Western books -- now there's a subject worth spending a lifetime studying_.

Kris yawned, but wasn't tired. Her brain activity had been reduced to a pathetic sludge, a mixture of 72 percent boredom, 25 percent frustration, and 3 percent anger. Or at least that's what it felt like.

"Out," Kris whispered against the cold glass. She was having trouble forming her thoughts into more complex words than this. "I want out."

A muffled whinny broke the silence -- a whinny loud enough to be heard inside the room. Kris checked the horses by the rocks, but neither of them was stirring much. The new horse neighed loudly, and Kris scanned the edge of the clearing for movement. A flicker in the shadows there, underneath the green-leaved trees on the south side of the enclosure where the rocks were lowest.

Only a few horses were able to jump those rocks, but Kristin got the idea that this one was trying.

It seemed to appear out of no where -- a wildly happy presence felt by her mind that had Kristin snapping out of her comma of boredom in moments. The horse that cleared the wall with ease was as recognizable to Kris by her aurora as by the look of her. Handy, since it was too dark to see much.

"Nigala," Kristin whispered to no one.

_Kristin!_The name as loud as a shout inside her head, inciting a weak throb in her temple.

"Not so loud, Nigala," she said out loud, sitting up straighter.

_Kristin, Kristin, Kristin!_ the horse continued. _Get down here_.

"I can't," Kris said wearily.

_Well, I can't steal you away if you can't get down! _The tall, buckskin horse came to a stop below her window, her wide eyes looking up. _Just break the glass, silly_.

"But that's wasteful," Kris said.

_What's wasteful? _Nigala asked, her perfect black forelock blowing across her eyes. .

"It's when you throw something that is perfectly usable away for no good reason."

_But you have a good reason_, Nigala said. _Me! _Kristin laughed out loud as the horse below stamped her feet excitedly.

Northern Horses were strong and handsome and fiercely brave, with a common sense of humor and a love of fun and running. In the North, the horse chose the child -- never the other way around. Horses could feel the minds of humans even when humans could not do the same. It was easier and safer for them to do the matching than for the humans to do so. They worked as a partnership with the humans, never on a master-servant relationship…unless it was the horse who took the part of master.

"I'd rather you convince Conrad to let me out," Kris muttered.

_Come on! _Nigala exclaimed. _I want to run, run, run!_ She stamped at the ground furiously. Kris debated for a few moments, then stood up sharply and walked away from the window. Nigala's head dropped slowly, but her eyes stayed on the window.

A minute later, Kris returned with a sufficiently heavy stool brought from the library. She muttered a few words over it, but they didn't seem to have any effect. Frowning, she looked at the door where the darkness was even blacker.

_Come on! _Nigala shouted. Shrugging to herself, Kris raised the stool, holding onto two of the four legs, and swung forward with all her strength.

The window wasn't the only thing that broke.

As shards of glass and a stool leg showered down around Nigala, an alarm went off down the hall from Kristin's room. A moment later, she heard shouting and thudding footsteps.

"Here I come!" she shouted down to Nigala. And without a second glance at the door, she climbed up on the window seat, stood on the ledge for a moment, then jumped.

After landing softly on her feet in a way that would not have been possible without magic, Kris stood quickly and jogged to where Nigala stood, waiting.

_You're in trouble_, Nigala laughed.

"So are you," Kris replied, leaping on board without taking the time for a proper mount. Nigala was bareback, her mane and tail so tangled that it was obvious she'd just come from the windy sea-planes. The horse took off almost before Kris had a good seat, but there was no fear of falling. With Nigala, there never was.

As the guards reached Kristin's broken window, the turned and headed for the rock banks.

"Milady, don't-"

And then they were sailing over the wall, Kristin almost breathless from excitement. It felt just like being thirteen again, thirteen with parents and a lull in the fighting, time for riding and learning without teachers-

All of a sudden, as if hitting a wall, a sickening weakness seeped through Kristin's body. Her hands fell away from Nigala's mane, unable to hold on.

_Stay on! _Nigala snapped as Kris weaved in the saddle. _It'll pass in a moment_.

"What?" she gasped, then fell flat against her horse's back, unable to stay upright.

_An energy wall erected by Jackson_, Nigala explained. _Anyone without the easily installed protection finds it difficult to move, much less fight. It's a last defense of the castle. Don't worry, it'll pass_.

"I can't stay on," Kristin gasped, trying as hard as she could to grip with her knees.

_Like I'd you fall_, Nigala scoffed. Horse and girl moved faster into the night, till they were nothing but a silver blur in the trees, then gone.

"Pass in a moment, huh?" Kris laughed. "I was immobile for minutes."

_Not my fault_, Nigala said primly as she picked her way around the smooth sea stone. Kristin walked beside her, one hand buried in her black mane as the sun began it rising in front of them, coloring the sky pink. _How was I to know that Jackson hade made it more potent than I expected? _

"By testing it before hand?" Kris said. "Honestly Nigala, what was with that?"

_I should be the one lecturing you_, Nigala snapped back. _Who is it that disappeared for five months with no word? I can understand not explaining to Conrad, but not me, your only true love_. Kris giggled.

"So you're not really angry," she said.

_I was lonely_, Nigala said, _but never angry_.

"Good," Kris said. "I never was able to help an angry Nigala, but I am the cure for a lonely one. After all-" She stopped mid-sentence, turning her head back towards the forest far behind them. "Did you hear that?"

_I thought we'd left them behind, but maybe that have that damned cat_, Nigala said somewhat nastily, sniffing in disdain. _He can always pick up a scent better than the dogs_.

"Stupid Agathon," Kris winced as she heard the noise again -- the loud tramp of less skilled horses making their way through the forest. "Shall we lead them on a merry chase?"

_I'll bear you to the seaplanes and farther_, Nigala said, her voice full of pride. _Just hop up, and we'll see where we go_.

"I warned you," Maude said with a shrug, smiling broadly. "You can't say I didn't warn you."

"Yes, yes, you're always right, we _know_," Jackson de Marentir sighed. An enormously tall man, thin like a willow, Jackson de Marentir was the head Sorcerer from the West, a man who believed in big explosions, all gods, and the man who fought beside him. He was found of jokes and not so found of Maude. He wasn't too happy with being pulled out of bed at three in the morning either, but some things were necessary.

"She's so…so…unresponsible." Conrad ran a hand through his fair hair, biting his lip.

"I think the term is irresponsible," Tristan said with a slight smile.

"I wasn't wrong, was I?" Conrad asked, turning towards a map covered wall. Unsure of whether he'd meant to face them or if he'd made a mistake, no one mentioned that fact that his back was to them.

"No," Jackson said. "Kristin is just too wild to be imprisoned for long."

"And since you didn't tell her anything that is going on, as far as she knows, we're still in control of the western sea-planes," Maude said. "But since Coal and her witches have taken over there, it's not safe for her to be there. Worse, she did grow up there. She may not be reasonable when she sees what's happened."

"Reasonable?" Conrad laughed, his shoulders slumped. "The way she's been acting, she'll storm Tirrendell on her own. Running off to the South to meet with that Achilles, risking capture by Zeus, letting her mind be blanked by Maude." He clenched his hands into fists, staring angrily at the wall. "She's been absolutely unreasonable these past six months."

"Not without success," Flame reminded him softly. "Even if the prophecy is just gibberish, Achilles and his men, _highly trained_men, will be of untold use to us. And having the brothers united will seem like an omen to the fighters."

The gathered council had to agree with her. It had been obvious in the last week that Achilles was twice the fighter of anyone in the army, twice the fighter then anyone they'd ever seen in the North…even Tristan. While the brothers were close to equal on the battlefield, or at least in the drills (there had been no open battles since Kris had returned,) Achilles possessed a grace and clear-headedness in diplomacy that Tristan had never had.

"True, but why couldn't she have talked with me first?" Conrad snapped. Half the people in the room sighed under their breaths; the other half yawned.

"Because you wouldn't have let her go," Tristan reminded him. "You're not being so reasonable yourself, you know. I'm supposed to be protecting her, and instead you have me chained up in here." He raised his eyebrows, frowning.

"And how do we know that he's really on our side?" Jackson asked. "What if he's secretly working for Maude? He could kill us easily, with the trust we've given him."

"He's had plenty of chances to kill Kristin before this," Flame snapped. "And Tristan and I. He's done more to protect Kris than any of us are doing now."

"That doesn't mean he's trustworthy," Galmoun said with a shrug.

"Maude, Flame, Tristan, take your people and go after her," Conrad said, interrupting what could have been a long discussion. "She got to the shore before noticing we had men following her, so I assume she's going to make for Tirrendell Plains."

"But Tirrendell-" Flame silenced herself and swallowed hard, shooting a glance at Tristan.

"Tirrendell is beset," Maude said. "Milord, it won't be easy to for us to get close."

"Let's pray it will be just as hard for Kristin," Conrad said.

"Milord, that's not my point," Maude said softly. "She may be better off with us leaving her be." She looked at Tristan for assistance. "The damages we might sustain if we go there won't outweigh the damages we might have if Kristin takes her time returning."

"Take lots of people," Conrad said blankly.

"Milord-"

"Maude, she won't make it back unless someone goes and gets here," Conrad said angrily. "She will choose to give her life and fight. Worse, she may be captured. We don't have time for any more equivocation from you." He turned around and faced the group. "Coal is moving," he said sharply. "Coal is moving _now_. She's made attempts on Maude's life. She's tried to kill Flame, Tristan, Jackson, Galmoun. Everyone but _Kristin_. We don't have time to argue. You've got to go get her before Coal finds out she's alone and unprotected."

"Milord, what if you're mistaken?" Maude said slowly. Silence reigned in the council room, and Conrad turned back to the wall.

"Go," he said. Maude closed her eyes briefly, nodded, and turned away.

"And Achilles?" Tristan asked, looking at Conrad as if willing him to turn.

"Go," he said again, his voice hoarse. "Just go." The room began to empty, the people following Maude as she strode through the stone doorway.

"Conrad," Flame said softly, stepping forward. "What about Achilles?" Her voice was hard, her eyes less so.

"Take him," Conrad said mildly. "Keep an eye on him."

"His men?" Tristan asked. The room was now empty, the torches flickering in their brackets.

"Will stay here," Conrad said. "Under guard. Watch him closely. If your brother does anything to make you suspect him, contact me."

"And?" Flame asked.

"Kill him before he can harm anyone," Conrad stated. "We can't risk it."

"Risk what?" Flame asked, though she already knew what the answer would be.

"Betrayal," Tristan answered for her. All was silent for a few moments.

"Lady watch over," Conrad said in way of dismal. "Bring my sister back alive, Tristan."

"Have I ever not?"

Tristan and Flame left the room together as the King faced the blank stone wall, his white eyes closed in the flickering torchlight.

"Horses," Flame muttered under her breath as she faced the small gelding Pearl. "Why can't one get away from the horses in this damned land?"

_I would resent that if I did not know you so well_, Pearl said, cocking an ear in Flame's direction.

"Anyone who thinks that can not serve to their fullest on this mission should tell me now," Maude said. She was finishing giving the overview of the mission to the select mages and warriors that had been chosen to follow them. Flame looked at Tristan uneasily; he stood beside Maude, arms crossed, his face in a fierce scowl. She knew he was only uncomfortable with the thought of Achilles being a traitor, but that knowledge didn't seem to make her feel any better. An uneasy Tristan was never a good sign.

When no one spoke up, Maude clapped her hands together and pulled her staff out of its nook against the castle walls.

"Danger and death are at our heels, but the Lady is watching over," she said firmly, surveying the gathered Northerners. "Keep strong." Flame shivered and pulled her cloak tighter. She never had gotten used to the cold in the North. "And no matter what," Maude added, "keep to my command. There may not be a second chance if we make a mistake."

"Are you alright?" Tristan asked Flame as they turned to mount up.

"No," Flame said shortly, jerking her cloak up as she stuck on foot in the stirrup of Pearl's saddle. Most Northerner's rode without a saddle, choosing instead to have a arms harness to hold more weapons. Not Flame.

"We'll be fine," Tristan said, doing his best to stop scowling as he boosted Flame up into the saddle.

"But will Kris?" Flame whispered. She turned and looked across the crowd to where Achilles stood beside a tall dark-bay gelding.

"Don't," Tristan hissed, pulling her back around. "He's not the one we need to worry about. Put too much focus on the imagined dangers, and the real will be able to creep up without us noticing."

"It was too easy," Flame moaned. "What if they're right?"

"For now, they aren't," Tristan said. "So don't think about it." He squeezed her arm and turned to mount Felix. The black charger pranced under him, then stamped the ground with one hoof, snorting angrily.

_I'm getting bored_, he announced.

"Exactly," Tristan said, his face breaking into a smile. "It's time to go."

"Well, what would you expect?" Kristin laughed. "You can't expect people to think the same way at sixteen than they did at thirteen."

_Prove it_, Nigala said. Kris ducked under a branch and held it back for the mare.

"I'm living proof!" Kris laughed.

_Well, prove that I can't expect people to not have different ways of thinking_. Nigala hopped over a fallen tree, leaving Kris to clamber over on her own. _Normal people, that is_.

"What is not normal about me?" Kris asked, frowning as she shoved the leafless branches aside.

_Don't make me count the ways_, Nigala said, waiting for Kris to make it over the tree. When she was almost over, Kris stopped suddenly, lifted her face towards the sky, and sniffed.

"Smell it?" she asked.

_The sea? Of course. I've been smelling it for_-

"No, Kris said. "Smoke."

_Yes_, Nigala said, abruptly serious. _Mount up_.

"There's no burning on the plains this time of year," Kris said. Her forehead creased into a frown as she climbed up on Nigala's back. "Fire danger is too high."

_Obviously something is burning_, Nigala said sensibly.

"But it shouldn't be," Kris said, her heart sinking. _Oh no_.

Horse and girl moved quickly through the thick forest. Soon, wisps of smoke could be seen in the trees; the air grew steadily thicker.

_Do we ever need to go further? _Nigala asked. _It's plain enough what's happened_.

"Keep going," Kris said, her mind numb.

At the edge of the trees, they stopped.

The Tirrendell Plains were burning.


	16. Fire and Prophetic Revelations

Listen to Not Alright, by Sanctus Real, if you can. Love. This. Song.

* * *

Long and low, the Tirrendell Plains were a fifty-mile long flatland right next to the sea. Though not swampy, the land was saturated with inlets from the ocean that penetrated as far as ten miles inland. The sandy ground was gray, the green grass grew to be over ten feet tall, and the wind off the sea constantly tossed the blades of grass around. 

If it wasn't busy urging wild-fires to newer and greener places, that is.

Coal laughed her contentment to the smoke-plagued sky. How she loved a good blaze.

She stood in the center of the small deserted village of Tirrendell, her black boots glossy under the shine of the torches held by her servants. A good supply of fire was always handy to have nearby. She never knew when she might not have time to strike a match.

_How lucky Firebright is_, Coal mused. _She can pull those pretty flames of her mind_. Coal turned her head and studied the far-away fire on the horizon. With a flick of her will, she shot the flames higher till they were burning the sky, burning on nothing. _So why can't I?_

"How are those poor villagers holding up?" she asked. Her voice betrayed the kindliness of her words. "Fire still burning?"

"Many are suffering from steam burns," one low-voiced servant answered. "And their mage is about to pass out from exhaustion."

"And once she does?" Coal asked, turning towards the man.

"The water will boil," he answered, brown eyes blank of emotion. "They will die painfully and slowly."

"Excellent," Coal said brightly, turning back towards the far-away flames. "I do love agonized screams."

* * *

"Easy now," Kris muttered through smoke-hoarsened lungs. 

_Just hurry up and kill the fire_, Nigala hissed, pawing at the blackened and smoking ground angrily. Kris moistened her lips with her tongue, took a deep breath, and spoke softly in spell-speak while lifting one hand to point at the fire. Slowly, a white frost blew from her dirty hand, paved the black sand into ice, and shrunk the hissing flames till they were candle light, then nothing.

"Almost there," Kris whispered. She dismounted carefully, then crossed the empty space in the line of flames. "Nigala, will you go for help? I've got to help the people, but you can head back and raise the alarm."

_I will run faster than any wind_, Nigala said. _If no help has come within the passing of a day, get out of there with as many people as possible_.

"Be safe," Kris whispered. Nigala snorted in sarcasm. She would be able to navigate the flames better than any human, and her chances of getting caught were almost nonexistent.

_Right back at you_, she said; then she was nothing but a light blur in the darkness amidst the rush of hooves. Kristin turned away before she could disappear entirely.

"Alright," she muttered, reaching up to pull a blade free. Without the reassuring company of Nigala, a blade was the next best thing.

There were two more walls of fire to bypass before she caught sight of the village. It looked relatively unharmed compared to the rest of the plains; all fire stopped strangely within a hundred-foot radius. But there was a shifting blue-white glow lighting the smoke in the sky on the far left of the town, a place where Kris knew the paved pool fed by a few pure springs, the water source of the village, was situated. Fifty-foot by fifty-foot square, the pool was always full to the brim and often overflowed during rainy seasons. Excess water was channeled out to the fields through small ditches lined in rock.

There was no reason for a glow to be forming over the pool.

Kris moved silently towards the dark village, praying that it was deserted. The sight of human-carried-torches sent a new sense of wariness in her; she set her knife down, laid flat on the ground, and rolled three complete rotations on the sooty ground, till her clothes and skin were blackened with soot. Standing, she resisted the irrational urge to brush her clothes off as she searched for her knife. She muttered a few words of the steel that dulled the shine until it reflected no light and was as black as the surrounding darkness.

_The sun should be rising soon_, Kris thought to herself. It meant nothing. Fire burned as well in sunlight as it did in darkness.

She moved quickly towards the outlying walls of the town. Once she was inside the group of buildings, she felt foolishly safe, as if even though a witch could be behind any wall, she was entirely hidden from view. Carefully, her senses heightened to an almost painful state, she moved through the empty streets, aware of distant voices, not so distant foot steps, and the far-off crackle of hungry fire.

There were no close calls, despite that for all Kris knew, this could have been designed by Coal to get her in a vulnerable position. She remained as unseen as she would have been if she was truly invisible. The smell of smoke burned her nose, and the constant flickering of the light was a jar to her mind.

She felt a sense of determination rising in her before she reached the first aqueducts. She had gone without heroics for so long, taking the lead in this situation felt more than normally right. Then she saw the aqueducts.

Instead of flowing water, they were filled with a dancing white-blue fire. The sudden blast of heat stopped her in her tracks; she stared at the line of flames, following the course with her eyes as it blocked her path and surrounded every bit of the pool. The fire burned near silent since consuming nothing but energy, and great swirls of steam rose up over the flames and into the sky.

Kris swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay still. The fire burned on, never rising, falling, or moving outward or inward. It was as still as fire could be, but in the silence, she head a new noise.

"Get back!" a woman hissed, and Kristin thought she could hear faint ripples from behind the wall of fire. "Kierith, get back!"

"But it's so cold next to Merel," a child's voice said plaintively.

"The cold is what keeps the fire at bay," the woman replied, in a kindlier tone. "The cold is the essence of the North. We must remain in the frost to be safe from the flames."

"Silence," a man ordered, and silence did fall.

_Well then_, Kris thought to herself, slowly taking a step forward. The heat intensified immediately, as if those two feet or so had brought her much closer to the fire than was possible. There was suddenly hot vapor everywhere, dampening her clothes, fogging her sight, making the soot on her skin run, and drowning her as she breathed.

She jumped back, unconsciously swinging at the eddies of steam as she gasped for air. The steam followed her a few feet, then faded back, disappearing into the dark sky overhead. The white flames danced on, the light shining on the washed edge of her blade.

Without thinking, Kristin drew her second sword. Two was usually better than one in a fight, unless you were counting the enemy. This sort of defense was all too often seen when dealing with the East, and the swords would be necessary in dealing with it.

For they were not quite normal swords. Steel, sharp, cutting, yes, of course. But also lined with wood from the trees in the royal grove, Corina's trees. The wood was famous for collecting and holding energy. Used in a weapon, they made it possible for the bearer to channel the power of any element through the steel, creating a weapon that destroyed not only flesh, but magic.

Carefully, Kristin began to whisper orders in spell-speak. After ten seconds, the right blade began to dull into gray; when it had stopped changing, Kris hissed a sharp command. There was a mute flash that could be seen only with the mind, and then the blade was clear ice, dusted with specks of snow.

Kristin turned her attention to the left blade. _Now this is the difficulty_. One could not banish one thing with something made of the same element. _If not fire, what to complete the ice?_

_Think_, Kristin ordered herself. _What does it take to put out a fire? What puts out a fire?_ The thought occurred to her suddenly, an idea that lit a smile on her face. _What a touch of style it'll add_.

After a moment of thought, Kristin began to speak again. She focused her thoughts on the airless tomb, the breathless runner, and asphyxiation. The results were startling.

The blade shimmered with a black light, then disappeared altogether, though Kristin could still feel weight in her hand. Then it was there, a pitch black blade that absorbed the light, a blade that had pinpricks in it that looked very much like stars.

_Beautiful_, Kris thought. She studied the knife for a moment, then closed her eyes, stilled her rush of thoughts, and focused on the small circle of life behind the flames.

_Merel_, she spoke silently, as gently as she could.

_We won't surrender!_ the tired woman gasped. _We'll die instead_-

_Merel, it's Kristin_. After a moment of silence, Kristin felt the flood of tear-jerking-relief from the slumped mage inside the walls.

_Thank the Lady_, she whispered. _I can't breath_.

_Get the people ready. Coal and her's will notice when the light dies_.

_We are ready_, the mage said, with as much pride as she could muster in her voice. _We will fight_.

_No, I will send you to the capitol_, Kristin said, laughing a little._Merel, the people are in no condition to fight, and neither are you. This place is overrun_.

_How can you send so many? _

_The Lady will protect her own_.

Then was the second difficulty. Kristin faced the wall and stepped forward, preparing herself for the intense heat. Surprisingly, it never came. The body protections Kris had pulled into place were unnecessary. The steam dropped to the ground as mist, the heat shriveled away, and the flame burned on, as cold and unmoving as space.

Within a foot of the fire, Kristin stopped. The air shimmered all around her, hazy with the temperature of the fire. She breathed in and found the air clinging to her lungs in a way she hadn't felt before. My, my, Coal. You really have outdone yourself.

Without a word, Kristin brought both blades up to chest level, crossing them so that they met at midsection without touching the fire. Then, saying a silent prayer, she thrust the crossed knives forward, so that the points pierced the opposite side of the fire.

It simply went out. It was, and then it was nothing. There was a bright, extreme light all around, then soft darkness and soft rain dropping down on her head and a soft cool breeze playing with her hair.

There was no time for a sigh of relief. Without dropping her weapon, Kristin focused all her attention on the group of people huddled in the iced-over pool -- pitifully small for the what the population of Tirrendell had been, but still too big for her to send as far as the capitol ad absolute safety.

"You'll be in the woods five miles from the plains," she said sharply. "Go straight to Conrad."

"Milady-" a breathless voice gasped. Then Kristin felt a surge of urgency at her back, a surge that carried that all-to-familiar scent of fear and burnt blood.

"Go!" she commanded. And, with a shot of energy that shot out in all directions, passing through Kristin's chest like a ice-cold line, the people slowly faded away to nothing, till with a last flash, they were gone.

All but one.

Kristin turned without waiting, thrusting her weapons forward into a defensive position. What she saw wasn't really the stuff of daydreams.

Quite the opposite, really.

* * *

"I hear hoof beats," Flame said unnecessarily. The Northerner beside her shot her a badly disguised look of surprise. Oh well. It wasn't often she got to be the one who stated the obvious. Most of the time Kristin did it for her. 

"Steady," Tristan muttered to the group of warriors that were grouped around him in the rocky clearing. "Steady-"

As the hoof beats reached a crescendo-highpoint, a tan blur flashed out of the trees and was past the group in a moment. Only a screaming neigh and the sound of skidding rock told the warriors that Nigala had come to a stop.

_She's in Tirrendell_. Nigala snapped out the words, speaking as if there was no time for anything but action. _She's rescuing. Go meet us on the edge of the wood_.

"Nigala-"

_I'll get her_. And Nigala was already turning, tossing her mane in the wind.

"Take me," a clear, calm voice said, and Achilles and his horse moved forward, the skylight shining on them in a mystic way.

_Keep up_, Nigala snapped. And she was away, the darker blur following as closely as if they were physically connected.

"Achilles!" Tristan yelled. But they were gone, the hoof beats dying away, fading back into nothingness. "Damn," Tristan hissed. After hardly a moment of silence, he urged Felix onward. The rest followed without a word.

Indeed, most had nothing to say.

* * *

"My, my, my," Coal hissed. "It's the little princess, come back to rescue the poor. And with such pretty toys." She stared at the blades with a sort of envy, then eyed Kristin herself. 

"Greetings," Kris said curtly.

"Oh, but it's been so long," Coal said, smiling disarmingly. "And yet I receive nothing more than a _greetings_? Goodness, Kristin, your manners haven't improved."

"Hmmm," Kris said.

"I'm afraid there's no hope for you," Coal laughed. "It seems I've never been able to make you any more polite."

"Maybe you did not try hard enough," Kristin replied.

"Maybe not," Coal agreed. "Though I've always tried so very hard to convince you to join me. After all, doesn't it feel somewhat like reuniting with a long-last friend whenever we meet? No?" Coal laughed. "Well, I do," she said. "A friend I've been wanting to see very much." Her eyes narrowed maliciously.

"I believe this is part of the play we have performed before," Kris said. "Please, let's move to another act." She stepped forward slowly. "I won't join you and you won't join me; peaceful disagreement is not an option, so I guess we just have to fight it out."

"Oh, but you move so quickly," Coal complained, pushing back her cloak in order to draw the heavy sword that hung at her side. Only with the strength of the demon inside her could she wield it. "We've hardly finished pleasantries, and already you speak of fighting."

"I never was a fan of pleasantries," Kristin hissed.

"No, you weren't, were you," Coal mused. "And I've always been so pleasant."

"Got a point?" Kristin asked.

"No," Coal laughed cruelly and strode forward. "Only that it's good to have the chance to kill you again."

"Same to you," Kris said.

The women met in an inevitable clash of fury and hate that jolted the dark street into another mood entirely. While Coal did all she could to make the fight magic, Kristin stayed physical, knowing that there was no way she alone could defeat Coal through magic. But with her two blades and the absence of magic, there was a good chance of wounding her.

Twin swords blurring into one, Kristin moved in an intense sequence, doing her best to unite the blades of ice and space while connected to Coal, but unable to do so. At least one arm was always occupied with the heavier and slightly sword that Coal carried. While she parried and blocked with the right arm, she used her left to slash at Coal, weakening her magic barrier, but never wounding her until in a small moment, the barrier dissolved.

In the moment that Kris could have killed her, Coal spoke a word of summons. Cursing under her breath, Kris disengaged her left sword in time to block the attack of the fire-demon who came out of nothing…and to nothing would return. The left blade, currently channeling the airlessness of space, destroyed the thing so effectively that Kris began to wonder why she'd never thought of this before.

Fire demons had a vaguely human shape, but were composed of nothing but fire and malice. They were a being that Kris had only ever noticed whenever she was around Coal. She didn't know if it was possible to make them useful; she'd only interacted with them on an I-kill-you-or-you-kill-me basis.

Coal hissed again, and then there wasn't time for Kristin to wonder. With Coal on one side and fire demons constantly appearing anywhere else, there could be no thought for anything but the battle.

She ducked under a fiery blade and brought up her right arm to slide under Coal's sword, slashing her barrier before pulling back into the death thrust for a demon. Heat snapped at her face; she bent back at the waist as flaming swords crossed over her chest. She spoke one sharp word, and the blades turned to ice, dropping to the ground as she stood, thrusting a knife into the faceless demon.

But there were too many. Too many, and none going for the death stroke.

* * *

Achilles couldn't understand the horses, but these two seemed to be doing a lot of disagreeing. 

He eyed the flames warily and spoke aloud.

"If you two won't keep moving, I'll walk," he stated. Kristin's Nigala turned her head and glared at him, before taking off towards a distant line of flames. The bay gelding followed, moving Achilles in such a powerful gallop that he was almost startled.

In a moment, they were around the flames, as mysteriously as possible. Achilles never saw an opening, but then he never felt much heat when they passed through. Whenever they passed a fiery barrier, Achilles felt more tense. Each step was taking them closer to Kristin and danger.

_How often will the two be so close? _

* * *

"I know you love my friends," Coal laughed; she stood back from the fight, almost unable to see Kristin from the surrounding demons. "Say you love them." 

Kristin whirled, unstoppable, terminating fiery form after fiery form; but they never stopped coming. Her mind raced; she spoke words of ice and water, hoping to destroy the opening Coal had opened, but unable to find it. Her heart was beating in her throat; her hands would shake if she'd been able to hold them still. A fire sword bit into her right wrist; she twisted away in time to keep the cut from being deep, but it hurt like hell. The blade in her right hand dropped, and a demon kicked it away.

Gasping for breath, Kristin whirled her left hand even faster, muttering healing words under her breath. Before she was even half-way through with the spell, a pink-white flash lit the night. The sharp light hit her mind so hard that she felt nauseous; the words she'd been gathering dropped out of her mind like rocks. Feebly slapping away an enemy sword, she swallowed hard to keep the nausea down.

"It's time to give up," Coal laughed. "I'm not interested in killing you."

"Yet," Kris muttered under her breath. Coal spoke a few words in a language Kris didn't understand, and the fire demons vanished mid-battle. Suddenly, there was silence.

"I don't think you understand," Coal stated. "You have once chance, and one chance only." She stood straight and still near a far wall, her black hair bound back, wisps of it blowing around her cold, blood streaked face. "Surrender your weapons," she commanded. "Allow me to bind and gag you. Comply with everything I ask, and you may survive."

"Comply?" Kris asked. "Comply?" She laughed, tipping her head back to look at the smoky sky. There were a few specks of star-lit sky beyond, but they seemed so very far away.

_It's not too soon to die_, Kris contemplated. _I just hope they'll understand_.

For she was about to die. Unless someone came, unless an army came, Kristin was about to die. The flash of light was more than momentarily incapacitating. It had destroyed her ability to concentrate on anything more difficult than few-word spells. The greatest ability she could summon now was the guts to walk the fifteen feet to where her right-hand sword was laying beside a tall-wood wall. It had happened so soon, she thought.

_Find the brother of the leader, the one who fights with his soul beside him. When united with the giver, the force will destroy your troubles_.

She'd barely returned home, but then the prophecy had been waiting, simply waiting, to be fulfilled for who knew how many years.

The gods must be tired of waiting.

"No," Kris said, still staring at the sky. "I won't comply. Sorry."

"Then you'll die," Coal said firmly.

"I've got something to give you, first," Kristin said. "A little message, if you'll allow me."

"Make it quick," Coal answered, wiping her long blade against her blackened skirt.

"A message from Kristin, King's Daughter; to Coal, Witch of the East." Kris smiled, a thin twist of the lips that was nothing more. "It didn't have to be like this," she stated, staring at Coal, willing her to listen. "The Lady accepts without questioning. She would have given you life, freedom, love, and power. It didn't have to be like this. It doesn't." She eyed Coal, swallowing hard. She was feeling nauseas again, but for a different reason. "Gods above, why did you feel the need to _comply _with the Eastern fanatics?"

"There is no power greater than mine," Coal said, her voice chill and cold.

"No power?" Kristin laughed. "Do you hear yourself? And the Lady you once worshipped? The god you once loved?"

"You know nothing," Coal hissed, her furry showing in her words. "Your god-"

"She was once yours as well," Kris broke in.

"Is weak!" Coal snapped. "She bows to Justinian! My gods will bow to no one. I will bow to no one."

"But don't you see?" Kris asked, her voice pleading. "It's only when we look up from the position of worship that we see the truth. It's only when our heads are raised to the greatest that we see the stars. Beauty, freedom, love -- does any of this mean anything to you?" She gasped for breath as a piercing pain shot through her temples and fought the urge to drop to her knees. For a long moment, Coal was quiet, staring at Kristin with a look she'd never seen before.

"It did, once," she finally said. "Those years are almost out of even my own memory, though. Nothing will restore them." She focused her gaze on Kristin, who felt the sheer power of it numbing her mind. "Are you ready, then?" she asked.

"I have always been ready," Kris said, her breathing faint.

* * *

"Damn it, just get me in closer," Achilles hissed in the ear of the horse beneath him. With a snort, the bay complied, racing towards the line of soldiers who were currently trying to blast them both to heel and beyond. When he could go no further, the charger slowed; without further ado, Achilles slid from his back, drawing his sword in that one swift movement. 

He moved like a fighting mountain lion, his grace overpowered by something deeper and more primal. He worked towards a single goal, and as far as anyone could tell, that goal was the death of every man standing in his way.

He stopped short of his goal when he realized that there was a clear path into the village…and that behind the scattered men he saw, Nigala was waiting impatiently, glaring at him with a kind of frantic intensity that made his heart speed up. He raced towards her, shoving the cumbersome cloak off his shoulders, wishing that he could move like Hermes, with winged feet to speed his flight.

They raced through the near-empty village, Achilles killing anyone who came near them with a sword or knife in hand. But something about their attitude told him it was too late. They were on the retreat, unwilling to engage him. The battle, whatever it had been, was won.

_Damn it_, he thought frantically. _Damn it, damn it, damn it_-

Horse and man skidded around a corner near the center of the village. This area looked the worst of all Achilles had seen. Everything was fire blackened -- the ground, the walls, the stone of the big, empty pool. Everything was fire blackened.

Except for Kristin.

Nigala screamed with an emotion that was impossible to describe, a wild sound that made Achilles that much more frantic, and simply disappeared. Barely noticing, Achilles raced forward toward her still body, praying for a sign of life, any sign.

He saw none.

* * *

The fires on the plains were dying, burning themselves out. As Maude's group crossed the black fields, the village was emptying of Easterners. They moved south, back towards their stronghold by the sea, carrying what trifles that they'd pillaged from Tirrendell. In their lead was a woman with black hair and eyes that displayed a sense of triumph so extreme, anyone who saw them stepped back, amazed and frightened by their intensity. 

In the center of the village, a blonde haired man crouched over a black haired girl, holding her limp hand and watching her still face. The only movement between the two was the slow rise and fall of the man's chest.

Above the smoke, above the sky, above the stars…

Justina cried.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Five-six chapters left, depending on how long they are. I should be able to update a few times this week. Yay for Thanksgiving break.

Believe me when I say even I didn't see this coming.

A Lady in the Golden Wood

PS - I wouldn't have got this finished for a while if it hadn't of been for great reviewers, my not-very-understanding mom, and the song I mentioned above. But mostly, those great reviewers.


	17. Lifestones

A blind man sat beside a rough-hewn stone door in a stone mountain, tossing pebbles over the drop-off abyss in front of him. Though he could not see, there was no shortage of pebbles to be found; they covered the ground, round and smooth and shining every shade of gray, green, blue, white, red, yellow, purple, and black. Every time the man tossed a pebble, it would bounce of an enormous gray rock in front of him; fly, shining, into the sunlit air; and then descend, spinning faster and faster till it was gone.

Kristin watched, slightly confused by the man's behavior. Every time he tossed a pebble, the far-off sound of mourning could be heard -- sometimes louder, sometimes fainter, keening wails of the left behind. The sounds made her spine tingle in an unpleasant way; she wanted to reach out and stop him, but knew she didn't have the power. Just thinking was taking a lot of effort.

She watched him for a long time.

"Don't worry, dear," he told her in a gravelly, unused voice. "You're coming up soon."

* * *

Maude wiped a shaking hand through her white curls as she exited the room where Kristin's body and the doctors were. She dropped down on a padded couch, shook her head, then leaned it against the back and closing her eyes.

She was asleep within a moment.

Tristan stared at her from his position crouched against the wall -- not with any particular emotion, but with empty eyes that hid his feelings of guilt. He was tired, but not enough to sleep. Not now.

The waiting room was small, the group smaller. Big windows faced the forest, but all that could be seen was the occasional treetop entombed in mist. The floor of the wood-paneled room was covered in thick reed mats, and comfortable chairs and couches lined the walls, but no one in the room took note of them except for sitting.

Flame paced in front of the closed door that lead to the operating room. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hands clamped tightly to her forearms. Her feet thumped lightly on the floor; her eyes were as chaotic as the mess of red hair that was piled on her head.

Conrad and Nancy sat on stiff-backed chairs opposite the door and Flame. Their hands were locked together, skin white with the pressure.

Tristan looked up as the door swung open, revealing the head healer, a man whose lameness had exiled him from the battlefield forever. He looked tired as he limped into the waiting room, wiping his hands on a clean rag.

"Her heart is still beating," he said. If he'd been hoping for exclamations of joy, he was left disappointed. "Not at a constant rate, and much to slow for my tastes, but it is beating." The man limped a few steps to the left, then leaned back against the wall. "The strange thing is that her brain is moving. Slowly, and her thoughts scattered, but moving."

"What does that mean?" Conrad asked. His voice betrayed the rest of him; it was hoarse and full of grief.

"It means that either she's dreaming, or…" The man trailed off, looking slightly foolish.

"Or?" Conrad asked.

"Or one of the gods has taken her on a journey," the doctor said. He snorted. "It's known. It's documented. And it's possible that in the moment Coal tried to kill her, a god reached out and pulled her into a protected state."

"But no god of the North does that," Conrad said. He paused, as if only just hearing the words he'd spoken.

"Not exactly," the doctor said. "There is one god who has done it before."

"How do you know?" Flame asked as Tristan asked, "Which god?"

"I know because it's my business as a doctor to know these things," the man said, raising his eyebrows at Flame, who raised her own back at him. "And the god?" the man asked, turning his head to look at Tristan. "A god who, despite his position, has never had much to do with the North. A god who watches more than he acts." He looked out the window into the mist. "A god who should have every interest in this war, but surprisingly, seems to have none."

"Justinian," Maude croaked. She lifted her head and opened her eyes. "Correct?"

"Correct," the doctor said. "Notice how it seems he has never taken much interest in the North. But a few times in history, someone has been taken on a journey with a god. And always, that person returns to save the North."

"Does Justinian gives them power?" Conrad asked.

"Or does he open their eyes to the power already inside them?" Maude mused.

"The answer is unknown," the doctor said. "Just as we don't know if Kristin is merely sleeping or on a journey."

"But how else would she have survived the blast?" Tristan asked. Hope was starting to show in his eyes.

"She wouldn't have," the doctor said.

* * *

Every time the man threw another pebble, the anger became more apparent on his face. It was an anger that spoke of an unfair loss, being cheated out of a prize that he wanted so badly. Each stone he picked up was caressed gently, the shining surface rubbed with his worn old fingers, before being tossed at the enormous rock. The bitterness on his face grew as the stones were thrown.

Finally, there was a break in the routine. As Kristin watched, the pebble in the man's hand slid out a bit early, hit the rock, and bounced back into the sea of pebbles surrounding them. Surprised, the man stopped for a moment, staring blankly at the stone. Then, he turned his unseeing eyes towards Kris.

"That was you," he informed her. Then he went back to tossing pebbles, caressing each one before it was thrown.

Carefully, Kristin made her way across the shifting pebbles to where the gleaming black rock that had bounced back lay. She bent at the waist to pick it up; it felt smooth and heavy beyond what it should have weighed.

Turning it over and over in her hand, she noticed an inconsistency in the smoothness. Looking closer, she saw the tiny engraving in the rock.

_Kristin, King's Daughter. North. _

Bending to pick up another handful of pebbles, she searched them for the engraving.

_Naka Nomanda. West. _

_Brian Morgan. South. _

_Caitlin, Ice Witch. East. _

Kristin let the pebbles slide through her fingers; they clinked against the rocks beneath her. Still, she held the black stone with her name engraved on it, rubbing her thumb against the carved letters.

Turning, she stared at the old man.

Another pebble flew into the air and down, down, down…

* * *

"Achilles."

The blonde warrior glanced over his shoulder. Maude approached him across the empty courtyard, carrying a sheathed weapon. He dipped his head courteously in her direction, but turned back to the wall without speaking.

Long paintings covered the walls around the courtyard, protected by a waterproof awning. Their colors were mostly dark, but there were patches of bright everywhere -- a red rose, a blue sky, a yellow sun.

Kristin's green eyes.

Achilles studied the painting he had found entirely by mistake. She was no more than ten in the depiction, but still entirely recognizable. A black cat was curled in her thin arms, yawning widely; her knife handles could be seen over her shoulders. The figure was part of a crowd, one of the few figures that stood out. If he'd had any inclination to study the rest of the painting, he might have seen more surprising things.

Needless to say, he had no inclination to study the rest of the artwork.

"It's funny," he said conversationally as Maude came to a stop beside him. "I came North for Kristin. And now she's gone."

Silence permeated the courtyard. Not even the distant sounds of men training with horses could penetrate the quiet.

"She's not gone yet," Maude said firmly. Achilles faced her, surprised at the hope that began to rise in his own chest.

"Do not lie to me," he said harshly, glaring down at the woman.

"She breathes," Maude said calmly. "She lives."

Achilles breathed deeply, thinking of air flowing through Kristin's lungs, and closed his eyes.

"This is for you," Maude said, holding out the sheathed sword. His eyes opened to see the weapon held towards him; he reached out without thinking and drew the sword.

"One who does so much for us deserves to be armed with the best we have," Maude said as the both of them eyed the sword.

It was over three feet long, a plain steel weapon that was covered, every inch, in engraved words and pictures. The handle was black leather, topped with a steel knob into which topaz stones were set. It was razor sharp; Achilles didn't need to test the edge to know this.

"It was the sword of Carbrian," Maude said. "Kristin's father." Achilles ran his thumb over the carved words, wondering what they spoke of. "I feel it should be yours," Maude said with a shrug.

The blade felt like it was part of him. It was no foreign thing of metal and leather. It was another arm, as natural as the two that held it. The sword replaced the one at his waist as easily as if there had never been another.

Once the belt was secure, Achilles sheathed the sword. Maude watched with eyes slightly widened.

"Take me to her," he commanded.

* * *

"Stop," Kristin whispered. The man ignored her; his white hair blew crazily in the breeze off the mountain. The dilemma was obvious on his face. It pained him to throw the pebbles; it pained him to hear the ping of rock against rock and the wails of the mourning.

But he could not stop.

Kristin walked to where he sat, her feet unsteady on the shifting pebbles. The stone mountain towered over her -- a never ending supply of those shiny pebbles around them.

The man reached down; his fingers closed over a shiny green rock. He lifted it up, rubbed the smoothness with his thumb, then drew back his arm to throw.

His arm flashed forward.

The rock never flew.

Kristin wondered with what strength she had grabbed the man's wrist. She held it in her thin fingers, grasping painfully tight to keep him from throwing the pebble. The green rock slipped from his tired fingers and fell back amongst its brethren.

"Take this one," Kris whispered, sliding the stone with her name engraved on it into the man's hand. He fingered it delicately; Kristin released his arm and stepped back.

His arm drew back. His fingers clenched against the pebble.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why not?" she answered. The breeze whipped their hair about for another moment, then died.

Slowly, the man stood up, lowering his arm.

"Do you see that door?" he asked. Kristin looked at the black door-way carved in the mountain.

"Yes," she answered.

"It leads to life," he said. "I have never been allowed to send anyone in that direction." Silent, the man contemplated the pebble in his fingers. "But then, no one has ever placed their life in my hand."

The sun shone down. The air flowed around them. Time moved, and no matter what, it couldn't be brought back.

"Take the door," the old man finally said. "My master will be pleased that you have come to fulfill his prophecy."

"Who is your master?" Kristin asked, a small curiosity gnawing at her stomach.

"Never mind," the man said sternly. "Once you are through the door, gather your friends. Go to Kurai Island." An image of stone ruins with a wind-blow sea in the background flashed through her mind. "Get there first," the man advised. "You'll know what to do."

"How long do I have?" Kris asked.

The man slid his hand inside a pocket of his ragged robes. When his hand emerged, the pebble was left behind.

"Until I remember," he said.

"Thank-you," Kristin said.

"Your welcome," he answered. Tired, he dropped down against the wall again. His hand groped for another pebble.

"Take the door," he said.

As Kristin slipped through the low-cut doorway, a pebble pinged off the enormous gray stone and flew into the air, falling into empty space.

* * *

She was gone, empty, her eyes closed and mind in a distant place.

Then she was there, eyes wide, limbs stiff, and tense.

"Don't just stand there staring," Kris snapped. Although the only thing she could easily move were her eyes, she did her best to look angry. "Maude, would you help me move?"

"Kristin, slow down," Maude said, her own eyes startled and frightened. "What happened?"

"There's not enough time for me to tell you everything," she said. "Where are we?"

"Healer's," Maude said, stunned. She didn't move.

"Would someone help me here?" Kris snapped. "We've got to get to Kurai." Neither Achilles nor Maude moved. Shakily, Kris tried to sit up on her own. As she slid off the high bed, unable to control her fall, Achilles gripped her shoulders, lifting her back into a sitting position on the bed.

"I'll go get the others," Maude said. She took a few steps backwards, then turned and ran.

"What's wrong?" Kris snapped. "We need to hurry." She looked up at Achilles for the first time and stopped short at the look on his face.

"Do not ever, ever, go _anywhere _without me," he said, furious. His hands tightened on her shoulders. "I thought you were dead," he hissed. "I thought I'd been too late."

"Sorry, but-"

"But?" Achilles hissed.

"You're being overprotective," she said calmly.

"Overprotective?!" he snapped, his grip on her shoulders tightening.

"If this hadn't happened-"

"If you say another word, I swear, you'll regret it," Achilles stated. Kris stared at him as she started to get angry.

"Achilles-"

He leaned forward, still gripping her shoulders, and kissed her.

It all fell into place when his lips touched hers. It was fear-inspired furry, love-inspired fear, and unknown and unreasonable love that shaped his actions. Something had linked the two of them in an inescapable manner, something or someone with enough power to create something from nothing.

_"I don't trust your intentions," he said, pushing the curtain aside._

_"Will you tell me what you dreamed?" he asked softly. _

_"Why did you tell him the truth, but not me?" he asked, disappointed. _

_"Then I'll have to go North with you," he whispered_.

Achilles leaned back, his eyes locked on Kristin's wide orbs.

"Or maybe you won't," he whispered.

"I don't," she answered. She lifted her heavy arms to encircle his shoulders and leaned her forehead against his. "I don't."

Flame stopped short at the door, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Behind her, Tristan halted, his eyes narrowing.

Maude gaped.

"Why'd everyone stop?" Conrad asked.

Kris lifted her head from Achilles shoulder at his words. She smiled tiredly.

"Hi guys." She turned back towards Achilles. "Help me down?" she asked. Achilles nodded and slid one arm around her waist, lifting her to the floor. He kept his arm in place as they stepped forward.

"Kris," Flame sighed. Already she was annoyed. "It's just like you to ignore the fact that you're in love with him."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Kris said. But then she glanced up at Achilles, and everyone who could see knew the truth.

"Why?" Conrad asked. He looked uncomfortable. "What-"

"Nothing," Tristan said. He followed Flame into the room, then turned to help Conrad inside. Silent Nancy followed, smiling. "Well," Tristan said dryly. "Kris, you'll survive anything, won't you?"

"Not quite," she said, smiling thinly. "And none of us will survive if we don't act quickly. We've been given a gift," she said. "Directions."

"For what?" Flame asked.

"Freedom," Kris said. She grinned; everyone looked on, startled. "Freedom in every single sense of the word." She tried to step forward, but almost collapsed as her knees buckled. "I need some energy," she said sheepishly, looking at Maude. The women stepped forward and placed the tip of her staff against Kristin's sternum. In a few seconds, she felt her weakness began to sink away.

"Thanks," she said, standing up straighter. Achilles' arm never moved. "Am I out of house arrest now?" she asked, eyeing Conrad critically.

"No," he said. "You're on reprieve, though." He stepped forward, Nancy's guiding hand on his wrist, till he stood in front of Kristin, then held out his arms.

Brother and sister embraced.

"You're still annoying," Kris muttered into his fair, blonde hair.

"You're still under house arrest," he replied. Kris rolled her eyes and stepped back.

"Kurai Island," she said. "We've got to get there. Soon."

"What's on Kurai except ruins?" Maude asked.

"Nothing," Kris said, grinning. "Just ruins of a race that we can't remember. Just ruins of a race with magical power beyond any of us."

"Just ruins that retain some of that magic?" Flame said hopefully.

"Close," Kris said. "You know, if we get a move on, I can tell you what happened." They stared at her, almost unwilling to hope; but it was impossible to not feel the emotion.

By the time the group got from the healing rooms to the front courtyard of the castle, the cry had reached the village -- "She's alive!" When the group had returned with her body, the mages of the castle had sent the message all over the kingdom. Now, they recanted the original and sent out a new message.

"We need all the advanced mages we can gather," Kristin said. "Jackson, Galmoun, Cynthia…" She continued listing names, but the list was painfully short compared to what it should have been. As she said each name, the mage appeared on the far side of the courtyard and made his/her way closer. Soon, the yard was buzzing with a hum of talk; a low wind blew up, forcing it's way through the group.

"Is Mark back?" she asked. Someone tapped her shoulder; she turned, already knowing who it would be.

"I thought you'd never ask," the brown-haired man laughed. He grinned at her through his hair. "Are we ready to fight?" he asked. Dressed in comfortable riding clothes, he had his own sword and bow with him, much like everyone else in sight.

"Where are we going?" Jackson asked.

"Kurai," she answered.

"Kurai," the mages whispered, passing the word from person to person.

"Kurai," Kris repeated, turning to look up at the cloudy sky as the wind blew the mist into nothing.

* * *

"What's on Kurai?" Tristan asked.

"A stone," Kristin said.

The small group present, consisting of Jackson, Maude, Tristan, Flame, Achilles, Galmoun, Conrad, and Mark, sat around her near one wall, under a low awning. The other mages had long since begun their journey to Kurai. Some flew, some rode, some would sail when they got to the sea. But no matter how they traveled, they would all be there by tomorrow at midday. Those most powerful mages who could simply appear on the Isle staid behind to prepare.

"What sort of stone?" Jackson asked. He played with a short, stout knife in his fingers, flipping it through the air with the use of magic.

"A lifestone," Kris said. An image of a shining green pebble flying through the air hit her mind; she closed her eyes briefly, and it was gone.

"Explain," snapped Maude.

"Does this have to do with Eastern Witchcraft?" Mark asked. "Because last time I checked, Kris talked about it more than anything else."

"To a degree, it does," Kris said. She smiled sadly, unable to repress the image of an old blind man surrounded by rocks. "But more than that, it has to do with all of us." She looked around the circle of faces, lasting a moment longer on Achilles' than on the rest.

"Everyone has a lifestone," Kristin said. "Every man, woman, and child in the North, South, East, and West. They are unreachable, unattainable -- a real stone that exists in one dimension only. In that dimension they are the very life of the person it belongs to. Destroy the stone, and you kill the person."

"What dimension do these exist in?" Jackson asked curiously.

"A dimension only reachable with the guidance of a god," Kris said. "A dimension of the mind. It's impossible to _steal _a lifestone when it's in this dimension. But, a god can _give _a lifestone."

"Do gods normally do this?" Mark asked, confused.

"Only one," Kris said. "And it takes a big sacrifice on the receiver's part."

"You're talking about the process of becoming a witch," Flame said, snapping her fingers as the idea hit her.

"Yes," Kris said. "When someone has done all the steps, they are allowed to ask a favor of the spirit before it enters them. If they can survive the time it takes for the spirit to complete the favor, everything works out just fine. If they don't…well, they die." She shrugged. "But one witch asked the favor, and staid alive. Only one. She received her lifestone and placed it somewhere safe and secret, a place she thought only she knew about."

"Kurai," Maude said.

"Kurai," Kristin agreed. "If we can find that lifestone, we must take it to Mount Ebeywn, in the West. It's small mountain on the eastern edge of the West, upon which sits an empty well that was never meant for water. It is a gate to the dimension in which a lifestone is real. Once the stone is dropped in the well, it will be destroyed the same way any other lifestone is destroyed."

"Once a lifestone is destroyed, does the person just drop dead?" Tristan asked.

"No," Kris said. "They must be in danger, or ill, or close to dying. But the stone is not thrown unless they are."

"So, while one person throws the stone…" Jackson said.

"The other must fight the witch."

"But, even if the witch is overpowered…"

"She can't be killed unless the stone is thrown."

"And I assume we're talking about Coal here," Flame said.

"We are."

"Why so many to retrieve the stone?" asked Achilles.

"Coal protects it with all she is," Kristin said. "If the hiding place is disturbed, she'll be there in an instant, most likely with a troop of her witches. Some of us will have to detain her while the others take the stone. Then a group must keep her there, in sight, so that they can attack her when the time is right."

"Because if she disappears…"

"We lose our chance." Kris looked around the circle. "Clear?"

"Just like mud," Conrad muttered under his breath.

"Was this shown to you in a vision?" Galmoun asked, his fringe of gray hair blowing around his puzzled expression.

"Not quite," Kris said, suddenly shy. She was wary of sharing what had happened after Coal had blasted her, because for some reason…

…she felt she didn't really know herself.

* * *

Well, I couldn't exactly kill her for good yet. Nothing's been resolved. I'd have no where to go.

I love Skillet's lead singer's voice. And the back-up girl. They're an amazing vocal duo.

Thanks for reading!


	18. The Points of Love

**Okay...I have no excuses. I am a terrible person. If anyone is still reading this...if you find it in your heart to forgive me, I'd much appreciate it. It's short, and I don't know when the next post will be. I'm immersed in one of my original fics right now -- and school and Battle of the Books and band stuff. I _will _try, but try and succeed are two different things. Forgive me! **

** Okay, Destiny, your turn to update. :)**

* * *

Kristin stood on the edge of infinity…or at least that's how it felt.

A cool wind blew around her as she leant against the parapet of the fortress wall that faced the ocean, her elbows on the rough stone and eyes on the dim horizon. Beneath her was nothing but darkness, and far, far below, the sound of sea-water thundering on rock. It was early morning, and the faintest glimmer of dawn marked the eastern horizon. Stars still glittered overhead, but the sky was patchy with clouds.

Kristin felt she needed peace to remove the turmoil spinning in her mind. She was a little cold, but nothing bad enough to make her go back inside. She needed this sort of peace to clear her mind, and there was so much clearing to do.

_"But then, no one has ever placed their life in my hand."_ His words permeated her mind until thinking of anything else was impossible. It was just a stone. How could something as important as a life be placed inside a pebble?

Maybe it was supposed to be a lesson in humility. Her life, reduced to stone format, wasn't the grand crystal she would have expected. Nothing but a smooth, black, pebble.

"So." Kristin turned her head to find Tristan beside her, elbows on the parapet, his fair hair drifting in the breeze. He bumped his arm against hers; the warmth was simply a flash of skin on skin that disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Come back attached, have we?"

"I don't know," Kris answered after a moment, turning back to the eternity of space around her. "He looks so much like you," she said apologetically.

"Once again, you're over-analyzing things," Tristan sighed. "It seems to be a near-fatal flaw of yours." Kristin shrugged, unwilling to show how close to home his words had hit. "Kris," Tristan asked, "do you think you'd love someone because they looked like me?" She shrugged again. "If so, then I feel more special than you give me credit for." She smiled a little…if that sad twist of the lips could be called a smile.

"Love," she said, finding the way the word rolled off her tongue interesting.

"What about it?" Tristan asked, smiling faintly. He ran his index finger over the tattooed band on his ring-finger.

"It makes life difficult," she said. For some reason, she couldn't explain the tightness in her chest. She couldn't explain why her eyes were moist, or why shivers racked her body, or why it was suddenly hard to breath.

Tristan pressed closer again, his arm against her arm, and looked out into the black, eyes piercing.

"But what would life be like without it?" he asked. He was quiet, but there was a forced cheerfulness to his voice that showed he was trying to make light of the situation.

"Simple," Kris said, forcing herself to take a deep breath to force back the rising emotions.

"How so?" Tristan asked, reaching down to lace his fingers through Kristin's.

"It hurts," she said. The wind picked up again, forcing air down her throat and into her wet eyes. "I'm so scared I can't breath," she whispered, hoping Tristan wouldn't hear. His fingers tightened around her own, and she knew he had.

"Why?" he asked tenderly. "Kris, I'll take care of you-"

"It's not that," she said, looking down at the blackness beneath them before fixing her eyes on the horizon. Faint gleams of light were beginning to reflect off the never-ending waves of the water, glowing against the night. "I've seen death," she said, her voice coming out choked. "And he's so indifferent. Impartial. It doesn't matter who you are or what you've done. It doesn't matter what you have to live for. When his hand reaches out for you, there's no escape. And he'll catch hold of you. In his hands, we're all the same. Anyone who's ever lived. Witch or mage, sorcerer, commoner, royalty…" She stopped, and her last words were nothing but the smallest of whispers.

"Loved or unloved." She dropped her head down, unable to bear the coming of light when her mind was in such shadows.

"So you think it would be easier to never love than to lose those you love?" Tristan asked. Kris nodded, closing her eyes.

"It's not worth the pain," she said, voice hoarse.

"I think…" Tristan said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him, "that any pain is worth love."

"But it's so pointless!" Kristin said, her voice breaking.

"No," Tristan corrected her, pulling her head down onto his shoulder. "_This_is the point." He settled his chin against the top of her head, his arm tight around her. "I comfort you because I love you. If I didn't, you'd be crying by yourself."

"Crying because I'm scared for you, and everyone else," she said into his shoulder, trying to stop the tears that were soaking into his shirt. "If I didn't love you, I wouldn't be crying."

"Kristin," Tristan sighed, "I'll live my life. Now live yours." He turned fully around and lifted her chin up, making her tear-brightened eyes meet his. "If you stop loving me because you're scared of the pain when I die…" He trialed off, letting his eyes show how silly he thought she was being. Kris had to smile a bit. "Well, there's a lot of pain between now and then," he said. "Love helps negate that."

"But if it's caused by love-"

"Then you use love to get over it," he said. "No matter how you look at it, how else are you supposed to get over pain?"

"But-"

"Kris, listen," Tristan sighed. "You want me to tell you how important love is?" He nodded to himself without waiting for her answer. "What is the one component of the prophecy that we were missing?"

"Achilles," Kris said slowly, the syllables making her emotions intensify.

"Yes," Tristan said. "Achilles. And did we have much hope of getting him to come North." He answered for her. "No. And what brought him North? Hmmm?" Kris looked down, a tiny smile twisting her lips. "What brought him North?" Tristan asked again. When Kris didn't answer, he smiled. "Correct. That would be his love for you."

"But see, if I didn't love anyone, it wouldn't matter to me whether he came or not," Kris said, focusing on the far off sunrise.

"That's irrelevant!" Tristan exclaimed. "How would you manage to not love anyone?" Once again, he answered for her. "By becoming a hermit in a place without any other people. Or animals, because I know you love Nigala and Agathon, and probably every castle cat there ever was." He thought for a moment. "And Conrad. He can be an animal sometimes." Kris rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to smile. "And there's another thing," he said. "No matter how hard you try, I can always make you laugh. How could you resist that?"

"But what I'm saying is-"

"Irrelevant!" Tristan snapped before she could finish. "It's too late for you to never love. You've experience that pain, and unless you find new love, that's all you'll ever focus on." He tightened his hands on her shoulders when she tried to turn away. "And anyways," he said. "Who ever said life is about avoiding pain?" Kristin remained silent, but Tristan just smiled this time.

"Just think about it," he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. He returned his elbows to the parapet and looked up at her, eyes shining in the dim light. "So," he asked. "What's this about Kurai, eh? Last time I was there, it was nothing but pulverized rock and moss, and there was definitely nowhere to hide a lifestone."

"Well," Kris said, resting her back against the stone, "it's not on Kurai. Yet."

"I thought you said it was," Tristan said, raising an eyebrow.

"Kurai is the key to finding it," she sad, "but it's not there."

"Hold on," Tristan commanded. "Will we leave Kurai with the stone?"

"If all goes well, yes."

"But it's not there."

"It will be," Kris said confidently. "We just have to get there first."

"Who else will be going there?"

"Coal," Kris said.

"Does she know that we're after her lifestone, then?"

"Not yet," Kris said. "But she will."

"How?" Tristan asked. His eyes hardened. "Is there a spy in our group?"

"I think not," Kris said, watching as the dimmer stars began to disappear into the morning. "But she will find out." Tristan eyed her uneasily.

"You're beginning to sound like a seer," he said.

"Not hardly," Kris laughed. "Just…well informed."

"By whom?" he asked curiously.

"A little birdie told me," she said innocently.

"Kris…" Tristan growled.

"You'll know later," she said. "Trust me."

They stood in silence as the sun continued to rise, transforming the world as only light can.

"We'll be heading out soon," Tristan said absentmindedly. Kristin nodded, noticing that he was already dressed for battle, though he covered his chain-mail and leather with a long, black cloak.

"Yes," she said. A faint tremor shook her body, but she told herself it was just the cold.

"I told you," Tristan said. "I'll take care of you."

"Tris-"

"She won't have the chance to kill you again," he said, voice steel. "I got lucky before."

"As did I." Both Tristan and Kris spun around to see Achilles standing near the stone stairs, Agathon slouched beside him. He walked forward until he was standing beside Kris. "But you go ahead and protect your _wife_," he told Tristan. "I can take care of Kristin now."

"She will always be mine to protect," Tristan snarled.

"But you have other obligations," Achilles said lightly. "I, on the other hand, am solely dedicated to her." So saying, he slid his arm around her shoulder.

"Achilles," Tristan growled.

"And, after all, it's only your job because I wasn't here beforehand," he continued.

"Maybe it's my job because I'm good at it?" Tristan said with more than a little sarcasm. "Hello?"

"Stop it, you two," another soft voice declared. Flame came to a stop beside Tristan. "You're making her blush."

They watched the end of the sunrise in silence. Just before the first direct rays of light peaked over the horizon, Achilles spoke.

"Do you two mind if I have a moment alone with Kristin?"

"Yes," Tristan growled as Flame giggled.

"Hush," the red-head exclaimed. "No, Achilles, not at all." And, ignoring the pleading look that Kris sent after her, Flame proceeded to pull Tristan away by the edge of his cloak. "We need to talk anyways," she told him as he glared at her. The sound of their footsteps shrunk away till all was silent again.

"Do you remember what I told you in Meliboea?" Achilles asked.

"You told me a lot of things," Kristin said with a roll of her eyes.

"About me not having to leave you?" he asked, leaning against the parapet with his eyes focused on her face. "It involved a promise."

"I remember," Kristin said warily.

"Well, I need that promise now," Achilles said. "Especially since you said yesterday that everyone will have to be divided into two groups."

"Would it help if I told you that I'd never even considered placing you in a group other than mine?" Kristin asked.

"It would, but I'd still like the promise."

"Well, I can't give it to you, because I can't guarantee I won't break it," Kris said bluntly. Achilles sighed and pulled her closer against him.

"Then how about just for now?"

"A temporary promise? What's the point?"

"A little reassurance," Achilles said. "Because I love you." Kristin was silent, but she smiled.

"Don't worry," she told him, sliding under his and around his back. "I'll need to protect you as much as you think you need to protect me. So, for the time being-"

"Hopefully a very long time being," he interrupted.

"For the time being, you don't need to worry." She leaned his head on his shoulder, loving the fall of his golden hair across her cheek. The sun finally peaked over the skyline, immediate warmth and eye-squinting light accompanying it.

"I only worry because I love you," he said softly, turning to press his lips against her hair. Kristin's lips twisted into a small smile; she closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of the sun.

"I understand," she whispered, almost quiet enough that here words were lost in the whoosh of the wind and the thunder of the waves.

* * *

**Well, what do you'll think of emo-Kris? She sort of scared me...and knowing that all that came from me was even scarier...ah well. Review, if it so pleases you...or just to make me happy :)**


	19. Kurai

"Ah, at last. There you are."

The brisk voice of Maude Whitethorn floated across the wall, mixing with the salty wind and early morning brightness. Both Kristin and Achilles spun around to face her, surprised at the interruption. "I've been looking for you," the curly white-haired mage continued, hands fisted on her hips. "Not doing anything I wouldn't approve of, were we?"

"No," Kristin said aloud. "Unless you don't approve of watching sunrises?"

"No," she said. "Quite the opposite, I suppose. I admire both the sunrise and sunset. It's mid-day I can't stand." The elder woman eyed the pair for a moment, then motioned them forward.

"Come to my workroom," she ordered. "I have something I must show you."

"What is it?" Kristin asked curiously as she stepped forward, Achilles a step behind her.

"Come," Maude said simply, beckoning with her right hand as she turned back to the stairs.

* * *

"You mean we're not even leaving the ship?" Mark asked, flabbergasted. The salty wind blew his shaggy locks off his forehead for a moment, creating a wild whirl of hair around his head.

"Not yet," Kris said, gripping the rail of the dipping ship tightly.

It was early afternoon, and all of the mages had finally arrived. Three ships were equally spaced around Kurai, each holding twenty-five highly skilled mages and ten of Tristan's battle-mages. The ships were single-masted, down-to-earth fishing boats that had been commandeered…with the owner's consent, of course. They floated, anchored a hundred yards from the rocky shoreline of the small island, and waited for the command.

Kristin's command.

"We focus," she said. "You do know how to focus, right?" Mark rolled his eyes and held his hair back from his faces with one hand so he could see properly. Most people had been wise enough to tie their own locks back, as Kristin had with a thin leather cord, but Mark had ignored the advice.

"Doesn't everyone?" he said.

"You'd be surprised," Kris laughed, turning back to look at the island.

She could see straight across it from where she stood. There were no trees or spots of tall brush, nor were there stone remains that rose more than three feet from the ground. The rock that had once been a sandy color were now splotchy green, covered with moss fed by the misty wind off the ocean, and it was everywhere. Crossing Kurai on foot would have been difficult because of the sheer number of stones covering the ground. Whatever sort of building that had been on the island had long since been pulverized, but it must have been huge.

Kris closed her eyes and forcefully blocked out the sound of the ocean and the mages around her. With silence roaring in her ears, she opened her eyes again.

Then she could see it as well as feel it -- the nearly palpable sense of malevolence radiating from the isle. It was nothing more than a wisp of black against her vision, a dusty feathering around the edge, an encroaching feeling that made her uncomfortable even from a hundred yards out.

"We need to hurry," she said, allowing the sound around her to rush in. "Listen, everyone." The ship silenced immediately, and Kristin felt the mages on the other ships listening as well. "Everyone needs to focus on fire," she stated. "It's the key to opening the door of the lifestone's hiding place. Don't ask what kind of fire," she said, lifting a hand to cut off Mark before he could speak. "Just think about fire. Focus. If you are the first to the door, it will swing open in front of you. Reach out your hand and take the stone -- and only the lifestone. I can guarantee that there will be other things hidden there, but you _must _leave them be." Knowing that is was always best for people to know the exact consequences, she explained. "Items other than the lifestone will be placed in the hiding place, but fire is not the key to finding them. To take them would be to sign your death warrant, as the barrier would close around you. Understood?"

"Clear," the mages across the three ships whispered.

"May the Lady watch over," Kris whispered in reply. "Now. Focus."

* * *

A spark ignites. Just a spark -- a tiny pinprick of heat and color, flaring up from nothing and beginning the ending of the world. The darkness ignites immediately, starting with a whoosh of blue that billows up, flares in the darkness, and begins to burn orange and yellow, but always with that blue flicker at the base. The flames burn steadily, as there is no wind to badger them; they are happy, and the stone behind them begins to glow a low, burnt, auburn in their contentment.

Flame's eyes reflect the fire and throw it back at them. The warmth is all around her; the hot, acrid, smell of heated rock explodes in her nostrils.

"Fire," she whispers. "Open up."

The flames take a moment to respond.

"We're supposed to kill you, sister," they say in a crackling, smoking voice. "Our child ordered it."

"Open up, darlings," she whispers.

"Of course," they say. "Since it is you, after all."

They explode silently, leaving nothing but the glowing stone to light her way into the small cavern opened up by the flash.

"Hurry, sister," they whisper. "She's coming."

"Thank-you," Flame says. She reaches into the depression in the stone and wraps her fingers around the small, dark stone. She'd rather take the shiny diamond amulet, or the leather-bound book that looks like it could hold lifetimes of information, but she knows they won't do her any good at that moment. The fire is hissing at her to hurry, so she steps back from the hole without taking a closer look. The maroon lifestone goes with her, doing its best to burn her fingers. But Flame is sister to the fire, and nothing can burn her but Fire's child.

_And rain can wipe away fire as if it has never been._

* * *

A soundless explosion pulsed through Kurai Island and the surrounding water, sending Kris rocking back on her heels, fingers scrabbling at the railing. A strong pair of arms steadied her, and she turned to stare at Achilles, shocked. In doing so, she saw Flame, standing on the bow of the ship, her hair blown in the suddenly violent wind and her figure framed by the gray sky as she examined the small stone held in her hand.

"Positions," Kristin commanded immediately, knowing there was not a second to lose. "Set sail, Tristan." She turned to find her captain staring at Kurai, his eyes wide. "Tristan!" she snapped.

"Too late," he said, sounding utterly causal despite his expression. "She's here."

Eastern Witches surrounded the Isle of Kurai, their hands clasped and eyes fixed on the ground as they barricaded the shore from any comer. Their black and gray robes flapped wildly in the onslaught from the ocean, but not a single one moved.

Then Coal appeared, standing with her sword drawn on a mossy rock in the center of the Island. A flurry of fire surrounded her; it died away as the witch's figure became clear. Kristin took a moment to make sure this was the real Coal. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach was enough to answer that question.

"Now," she whispered, a vicious smile gracing her lips.

Maude on Kristin's ship, Galmoun on the second ship, and Jackson on the third lifted theirs staffs and shouted five powerful words of spellspeak. Three pieces of individual fire flashed -- one blue, one amber, one lavender. Three strong minds forced controlling bonds into place. Three staffs shot into the air, spinning their light off into tangible lines. Three multicolored ropes fell to the sea, encircling Kurai as they dropped. Three colors mixed; three powers joined.

The sea flashed. The sky darkened. Another silent explosion sounded, this one knocking every person on Kurai off their feet with the force.

All but Coal.

"You think," she said, her mind cruel in every mage's mind, "that you can trap me here?" She began to laugh so hard that her sword dropped to the stones beneath her feet. The clatter was unearthly loud; mages covered their ears out of reflex, cringing under the weight of the ring.

"You think that those little…threads? can trap me here?" Her laughter continued, surrounded the witches as they stood to their feet once more, returning to their positions as if nothing had ever happened.

"No," Kristin whispered in Coal's ear, kicking the broadsword off the outcropping of stone upon which they both now stood. "But this can." And without any more words, she thrust her newly created staff into the air, shouting one last word with such power that Coal staggered under the force.

Black and green light flashed with enough force to scar the mind as a spiraling furry of power shot through the air, exploding into a network of dozens of colored ropes that dropped over the island, connecting with the ropes in the water. The entire set blazed, blue and amber and lavender and black and green, and then flashed into nothing.

Nothing visible, at least.

Coal stiffened, her knees locking.

"You…" she hissed, then fell to her knees. "Impossible," she stated. "You're dead."

It was Kristin's turn to laugh. She lowered her staff, her fingers still locked around the rune-carved bronze.

"Then you're seeing things, Coal," she said. "I'm here. I'm alive."

"The staff," the witch wheezed, closing her eyes to concentrate on breathing. "Impossible," she said again.

"The staff?" Kristin asked. "Ah. So that's what you're upset about." She narrowed her eyebrows, a triumphant smile on her lips. "Yes, I'm beginning to understand why every mage uses a staff." She switched the rod to both hands, running her hands over the delicately cared runes that covered every inch of the bronze, much like Achilles' sword. "It's amazingly receptive to my every command. I'm surprised you haven't got one."

"Your_Justina _broke it!" Coal hissed, her eyes in black slits.

"You broke your vows," Kristin said calmly. "You knew what would happen." The polished black and green pebbles that were embedded in the metal glittered faintly with remnants of the spell they had just helped work; the core of Corina Wood channeled her energy as if it was another part of her body. "But you do miss it, don't you," Kris sighed. "I think I would as well."

Coal gasped for air; her eyes shut tightly.

"You don't have the power," she said maliciously, forcing her eyes open, "to keep me here." Kristin shook her head.

"Come now," she said briskly. "Coal, your best-laid plan has been swept to pieces. We have your lifestone, and you are, whether you acknowledge it or not, bound."

"What will you do with it?" the witch hissed, a maniacal glint in her eye. "You don't know!" she said before Kristin could answer. "You can't!"

"I do know," Kristin said. "Coal, I have been shown."

"You can't!" she gasped, writhing on her knees; the green moss was crushed into her black robes, coating the material with salty pulp . "What will you do?" she asked, her breathing labored. Kristin was silent. "_What will you do?_"

"Destroy it, of course," the black-haired warrior said. Then, in a flash of invisible energy, she was gone.

Coal fell forward on her face, unable to breath properly from the panic engulfing her mind. The presence of Kristin was gone -- but so was the lifestone. It was a long moment before Coal could force her mind into submission, and when she did, her entire body felt weak.

The magical bounds were still there, pressing every part of her down against an immovable wall. Nothing that could kill her, but not something that was easy to break.

In fact, with two of the four who had created the ropes still present, it was impossible. The power it would take from Coal was, quite simply, her life-force.

Ah…but if one couldn't die, could she use her life force and survive?

Of course. All evidence supported it. As did the demon inside her.

But if one used her life force, what was left?

_Iron will_.

Coal forced herself up, her arms shaking, and collapsed into a sitting position. She eyed the ship in front of her. There was no commanding presence on this ship -- a group of strong Northern mages, but none of the will of the trap makers.

That was where she would start.

* * *

Thanks to wizkid08 for the correction, and to everyone else for the support! I appreciate all you guys. And just a note, if you have this story as a favorite, I might contact you sometime to ask what you like and don't like and to ask if you have any ideas...at all...because I'm nearly out. I've got most of the ending planned, but not all. So, just a warning...

Thanks for reading!


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